PR 

3364 

11 

J 8 54 




Gass- 
Book. 




^r^e^f^vS^pe^ 



APPLETON'S EDITION OF THE BRITISH POETS* 



PROSPECTUS 



New and Splendid Library Edition 

OP THE 

POPULAR POETS AND POETRY OF BRITAIN 

EDITED, WITH BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICES, 



AUTHOR OF 



BV THE REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN, 

'GALLERY OF LITEEAEY PORTRAITS," "BARDS OF THE BIBLE," ETC. 



In demy-octavo size, printed from a new pica type, on superfine paper, and neatly bound. 
Price? only $1 a volume in cloth, or $2 50 in calf extra. 



" Strangely enough, we bave never had as yet anything at all approaching a satis- 
factory edition of the English poets. We have had Johnson's, and Bell's, and Cooked 
and Sharped small sized editions— we have had the one hundred volume edition from 
the Chiswick press — we have had the double-columned editions of Chalmers and An- 
derson—and we have the, as yet, imperfect Aldine edition ; but no series has hitherto 
given evidence that a man of cultivated taste and research directed the whole." — Athen. 

The splendid series of books now offered to the public at such an unusually low 
rate of charge, will be got up with all the care and elegance which the present advanced 
state of the publishing art can command. 

The well-known literary character and ability of the editor is sufficient guaranty for 
the accuracy and general elucidation of the text, while the paper, printing, and binding 
of the volumes will be of the highest class, forming, in these respects, a striking contrast 
to all existing cheap editions, in which so few efforts have been made to combine 
superiority in production with low prices. 

Under the impression that a chronological issue of the Poets would not be so ac- 
ceptable as one more diversified, it has been deemed advisable to intermix the earlier 
and the later Poets. Care, however, will be taken that either the author or the volumes 
are in themselves complete, as published ; so that no purchaser discontinuing the series 
at any time, will be possessed of imperfect books. 

The absence in the book market of any handsome uniform series of the Popular Brit- 
ish Poets, at a moderate price, has induced the publishers to project the present edition, 
under the impression that, produced in superior style, deserving a place on the shelves 
of the best libraries, and offered at less than one half the usual selling price, it will meet 
that amount of patronage which an enterprise, based on such liberal terms, requires. 

The series will conclude with a few volumes of fugitive pieces, and a History oj 
British Poetry, in which selections will be given from the writings of those authors 
whose works do not possess sufficient interest to warrant their publication as a whole. 

It is believed that this will render the present edition of the British Poets the mos) 
complete which has ever been issued, and secure for it extensive support The series is 
intended to inclnde the following authors :— 



ADDISON. 


COWPER. , 


GRAHAME. 


OPEE. 


8PENSER. 


AKENSIDE. 


CRABBE. 


GRAY. 


PARNELL. 


SUCKLING. 


ARMSTRONG. 


CRA8HAW. 


GREEN. 


PENROSE. 


SURREY. 


BARBAULD. 


CUNNINGHAM. 


HAMILTON, W. 


PERCY. 


SWIFT. 


BEATTIE. 


DAVTE8. . 


HARRINGTON. 


POPE. 


TANNAHILL. 


BLAIR. 


DENHAM. 


HERBERT. 


PRIOR. 


THOMSON. 


BLOOMFIELD. 


DONNE. 


HEREICK. 


QUARLES. 


TICKELL. 


BRUCE. 


DRAYTON. 


HOGG. 


RAMSAY. 


VAUGHAN, H. 


BURNS. 


DRUMMOND. 


JAMES L 


ROGERS. 


WALLER. 


BUTLER. 


DRYDEN. 


JONES. 


ROSCOMMON. 


WARTON, J. 


BYRON. 


DUNBAR. 


JOHNSON. 


ROSS. 


WARTON, T. 


CAMPBELL. 


DYER. 


JONSON. 


8ACEVTLLE. 


WATT8. 


CAREW. 


FALCONER. 


LEYDEN. 


SCOTT, J. 


WHITE, H. A. 


CHATTERTON. 


FERGUSSON. 


LLOYD. 


SCOTT, 6IR W. 


WITHER. 


CHAUCER. 


FLETCHER, G. 


LOGAN. 


6HAKSPEARE. 


WTLKTE. 


CHURCHILL. 


GAY. 


MACPHERSON. 


SHELLEY. 


WOLOOTT. 


CLARE. 


GIFFORD. 


MALLETT. 


8HEN8TONE. 


WOLFE, 


COLERIDGE. 


GLOVER. 


MARVEL. 


SMART. 


WYATT. 


COLLINS. 


GOLDSMITH. 


MILTON. 


SMOLLETT. 


YOUNG. 


COWLEY. 


GOWER. 


MOORE. 


SOMEEVILLE, 





The following Authors are now ready : 
JOHN MILTON, 2 vols. : JAMES THOMSON, ? vol. ; GEORGE HERBERT, 1 v<* 
JAMES YaUl^G, 1 vol 



Cmqjreltt'js Come&ji 



OF 



LOVE FOR LOVE, 



CAREFULLY REVISED, CURTAILED, AND ALTERED BY 



JAMES W. WALLACE, 



AND PRODUCED FOR THE FIRST TIME ON ANY STAGE IN ITS 
PRESENT FORM, MARCH 1st, 1854, 



AT WALLACK'S THEATRE, NEW-YORK 



CORRECTLY MARKED AS ACTED, 



By HENRY B. PHILLIPS, Prompter. 



NEW-YORK : 
D. APPLE TON AND COMPANY, 

346 & 348 BROADWAY. 
LONDON: 16 LITTLE BRITAIN. 

M.DCCG.LTV. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by 

D. APPLETON & CO., 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of 

New-York. 



/w? 83 



AS PERFORMED AT 

WALLAOK'S THEATRE, N. Y., 1854. 

Sir Sampson Legend, Father to Valentine and Ben My. Blake. 

Valentine, in love with Angelica - * Mr. Lester. 

Scandal, His Friend, a free Speaker * - Mr. Dyott. 

Tattle, a half-witted beau - - - Mr. Walcot. 

Ben, Sir Sampson's youngest Son - - Mr. Brougham. 

Foresight, an illiterate old fellow - - Mr. L. Thompson. 

Jeremy, Servant to Valentine - - - Mr. F. A. Vincent. 

Trapland, a Scrivener - - • Mr. Bernard. 

Buckram, a Lawyer Mr. Lyster. 

Steward Mr. Brown. 

Servant - - - - - Mr. Burke, 

Angelica, Niece to Foresight - - - Mrs. Hoey. 

Mrs. Foresight, Second Wife to Foresight - Mrs. Cramer. 

Mrs. Frail, Sister to Mrs. Foresight - - Mrs. Brougham. 

Miss Prue, Daughter to Foresight by first Wife Mrs. Stephens. 

Nurse to Miss ------ Mrs. Isherwood 

Jenny Mrs, Phillips, 



SCENE IN LONDON. 



\ 




LOYE FOR LOYE. 



ACT I. 



Scene 1. — Valentine's Chamber. Valentine seated at Ta- 
ble, r. h., reading ; Jeremy waiting. Several Books 
upon the table, l. h. 



Val. Jeremy ! 
Jer. Sir ! 

Val. Here, take away, I'll walk a turn, and digest 
what I have read. [Rises. 

Jer. You'll grow devilish fat upon this paper diet ! 
[Aside, and taking away the books. 

Val. And, d'ye hear, go you to breakfast. There's a 
page doubled down in Epictetus, that is a feast for an Em- 
peror. 

Jer. Was Epictetus a real cook, or did he* only write 
receipts? [Coming down, r. h. 

Val. Kead, read, sirrah ! and refine your appetite ; 
learn to live upon instruction ; feast your mind, and mortify 
your flesh. Read, and take your nourishment in at your 
eyes. Shut up your mouth, and chew the cud of under- 
standing. So Epictetus advises. 
2 



10 LOVE FOR LOV]^k 

Jer. O Lord ! I hav<e*»h§ard miicn^Q^JfcL when I 
waited upon^a gaitleman at Cambridge. Jpra^^vhat. 
Vthat Epictetus ! \ " - • * % ^&*T 



^^ Avery, rich- manV-not worth 'ia gro? 
jj^u-n^h*! ,^And^so he has made 0v 



2;roat. 

l 7 ery fine feast, 
where^here is nothino-Uo be eaten ? 



Vol. ^ Yes. 

Jen Sir, you're a gentleman, and probably understand 
this fine feeding : but, if you please, I had rather be at board 
wages. Does your Epictetus, or your Seneca here, or any 
of these poor rich rogues, teach you how to pay your debts 
without money ? Will they shut up the mouths of your 
creditors ? Will Plato be bail for you ? Or Diogenes, be- 
cause he understands confinement, and lived in a tub, go to 
prison for you ? 'Slife, sir, what do you mean, to mew your- 
self up here with three or four musty books, in commenda- 
tion of starving and poverty? 

Vol. Why, sirrah, I have no money, you know it, and 
therefore resolve to rail at all that have : and in that I but 
follow the examples of the wisest and wittiest men in all ages 
— these poets and philosophers, whom you naturally hate, for 
just such another reason, because they abound in sense, and 
you are a fool ? [Crosses p. s. 

Jer. Ay, sir, I am a fool, I know it : and yet, Heaven 
help me, I'm poor enough to be a wit. But I was always a 
fool, when I told you what your expenses would bring you to, 
your coaches and your liveries, your treats and your balls, 
your being in love with a lady that did not care a far- 
thing for you in your prosperity, and keeping company with 
wits that cared for nothing but your prosperity, and now, 
when you are poor, hate you as much as they do one an- 
other. 

Vah Well, and now I am poor, I have an opportunity 
to be revenged on them all. I'll pursue Angelica with more 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 11 

love than»ever, and appear more notoriously her admirer in 
this restraint, than when I openly rivalled the rich fops that 
made court to her. So shall my poverty be a mortification 
to her pride, and perhaps make her compassionate the love 
which has principally reduced me to this lowness of fortune. 
And for the wits, I'm sure I'm in a condition to be even with 
them. [Sits at table, r. h. 

Jer. Nay, your condition is pretty even with theirs, 
that's the truth on't. 

VaL I'll take some of their trade out of their hands. 
Jer. Now Heaven of mercy continue the tax upon pa- 
per ! You don't mean to write ? 

VaL Yes, I do, I'll write a play. 

Jer. Hem ! Sir, if you please to give me a small certi- 
ficate of three lines, — only to certify those whom it may con- 
cern, — That the bearer hereof, Jeremy Fetch, by name, has 
for the space of seven years, truly and faithfully served Val- 
entine Legend, Esquire, and that he is not now turned away 
for any misdemeanor, but does voluntarily dismiss his mas- 
ter from any future authority over him. 

Vol. No, sirrah, you shall live with me still. 
Jer. Sir, it's impossible. I may die with you, starve 
with you, or be damned with your works : but to live, even 
three days, the life of a play, I no more expect it, than to 
be canonized for a muse after my decease. 

Vol. You are witty, you rogue, I shall want your 
help. I'll have you learn to make couplets, to tag the ends 
of acts. 

Jer. But, sir, is this the way to recover your father's 
favor ? If your younger brother should come from sea, he'd 
never look upon you again. You won't have a friend left in 
the world, if you turn poet ! The spirit of Famine appears 
to me, like a thin chairman, melted down to half his propor- 
tion, with carrying a poet upon tick, to visit some great for- 



12 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

tune, and his fare to be paid him, like the wages of ^in, either 
at the day of marriage or the day of death. 

Enter Scandal, l. 2 e. 

Scandal, What ! Jeremy holding forth ? 

Val, The rogue has (with all the wit he could mus- 
ter up) been declaiming against wit. 

Scand, Ay ? Why then I'm afraid Jeremy has wit : 
for wherever it is, it's always contriving its own ruin. 

Jer. Why so ? I have been telling my master, sir. 
Mr. Scandal, for Heaven's sake, sir, try if you can dissuade 
him from turning poet ! 

Scand, Poet ! he shall turn soldier first, and rather 
depend upon the outside of his head than the lining ! Why, 
what the devil ! Has not your poverty made you enemies 
enough ? Must you need show your wit to get more ? 

Jer, Ay, more indeed : for who cares for any body 
that has more wit than himself? 

Scand. Jeremy speaks like an oracle ! Don't you see 
how worthless great men and dull rich rogues avoid a wit- 
ty man of small fortune ? Why, he looks like a writ of 
inquiry into their titles and estates, and seems commis- 
sioned by Heaven to seize the better half. 

Val, Therefore I would rail in my writings, and be 
revenged. [Rises. 

Scand. Rail ? — at whom ? — the whole world ? Impo- 
tent and vain ! Who would die a martyr to sense, ia a 
country where the religion is folly ? No ! turn flatterer, 
quack, lawyer ! A modern poet is worse, more servile, 
timorous, and fawning, than any I have named : without 
you could retrieve the ancient honors of the name, recall 
the stage of Athens, and be allowed the force of open, 
honest satire. 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 13 

Val. You are as inveterate against our poets as if 
your character had been lately exposed upon the stage. 
Nay, I am not violently bent upon the trade. [A knock, 
l. 2 e.] Jeremy, see who's there. (Jeremy exits door, 
l. 2 e.J ' But tell me what you would have me do? 
What do the world say of me, and my forced confinement ? 

Scand. The world behaves itself, as it uses to do on 
such occasions. Some pity you, and condemn your father: 
others excuse him, and blame you. Only the ladies are 
merciful, and wish you well: since love and pleasurable 
expense have been your greatest faults. 

He-enter Jeremy, l. 2 e. 

Val. How now? [Crosses c. 

Jer. Nothing new, sir. I have dispatched some half-a- 
dozen duns with as much dexterity as an hungry Judge* doe* 
causes at dinner-time. 

Val. What answer have you given them ? 

Scand. Patience, I suppose — the old receipt ! 

Jer. No, faith, sir : I have put them off so long with 
patience and forbearance, and other fair words, that I was 
forced to tell them in plain downright English — 

Val. What? 

Jer. That they should be paid. 

Val. When? 

Jer. To-morrow. 

Val. And how the devil do you mean to keep your 
word? 

Jer. Keep it? not at all: it has been so very much 
stretched, that I reckon it will break of course by to-morrow, 
and nobody will be surprised at the matter. [Knocking^ 
Again ! Sir, if you don't like my negotiation, will you be 
pleased to answer these yourself ? 



14 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Val. [sits] See who they are. [Exit Jeremy, l. 2 e.] By 
this, Scandal, you may see what it is to be great. Secreta- 
ries of State, Presidents of the Council, and Generals of an 
army, lead just such a life as I do, have just such crowds of 
visitants in a morning, all soliciting of past promises, which 
are but a civiller sort of duns, that lay claim to voluntary 
debts. 

Enter Jeremy, l. 2 e. 

Jer. O, sir, there's Trapland, the scrivener, with two 
suspicious fellows, and there's your father's steWard ! 

Val. Bid Trapland come in. If Tcan give that Cer- 
berus a sop, I shall be at rest for one day ! 

[Jeremy exits, l. 2 e. and re-enters with Trapland. 
O, Mr. Trapland ! my old friend ! welcome ! Jeremy, a 
.chair quickly : a bottle of wine, and a toast — fly — 

Trap. A good morning to you, Mr. Valentine, and to 
you, Mr. Scandal. 

[Jeremy puts chairs, and stands up stage, r. c. 
Scand. The morning's a very good morning, if you 
don't spoil it. 

Val. Come, sit you down, you know his way. 

[All sit. 
Trap, [a] There is a debt, Mr. Valentine, of fifteen hun- 
dred pounds, of pretty long standing — 

Val. [l.] I cannot talk about business with a thirsty pal- 
ate. Sirrah ! the wine. • 

[Jeremy brings wine from Buffet, r. h. Fills. 
Trap. And I desire to know what course you have 
taken for the payment ? 

Val. Faith and troth, I am heartily glad to see you 
— my service to you ! — fill, fill, to honest Mr. Trapland — 
fuller ! [Jeremy fills Trapland 1 s glass. 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 15 

Trap. Hold ! this is not to our business — my service to 
you, Mr. Scandal. [Drinks^\ I have forborne as long — 

Val. T'other glass, and then we'll talk — fill, Jeremy. 

[Jeremy fills again. 

Trap. No more in truth : — I have forborne, I say — 

VaL And how does your handsome daughter ? Come, 
a good husband to her ! [Drinks. 

Trap. Thank you ! I have been out of this money. 

Val. Drink first, Scandal, why do you not drink? 

[They drink. 

Trap. And in short, I can't be put off no longer. 

Jer. Sir, your father's steward says he comes to make 
proposals concerning your debts. 

Val. Mr. Trapland, you shall have an answer pre- 
sently. 

[Enter Steward, l. 2 e. who whispers Valentine. 

Scand. Here is a dog now, a traitor in his wine ! 
Sirrah, refund the wine ! 

Trap. Mr. Scandal, you are uncivil. I did not value 
your wine, but you cannot expect it again, when I have 
drunk it. 

Scand. And how do you expect to have your money 
again, when a gentleman has spent it ? 

Val. You need say no more. I understand the con- 
ditions, they are very hard, but my necessity is very press- 
ing : I agree to them. Take Mr. Trapland with you, and 
let him draw the writing. Mr. Trapland, you know this 
man, he shall satisfy you. 

Trap. Sincerely, I am loth to be thus pressing, but my 
necessity. 

Val. No apology, good Mr. Scrivener, you shall be 
paid. 

Trap. I hope you forgive me, — my business requires — 
[Exit Trapland, Steward, and Jeremy, l. 2 e. 



16 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Scand. He begs pardon, like a hangman, at an ex- 
ecution. 

VaL But I have got a reprieve. 

Scand. I am surprised ! What, does your father re- 
lent? 

VaL No ! he has sent me the hardest conditions in 
the world. You have heard of a booby brother of mine, 
that was sent to sea three years ago? This brother, 
my father heard, is landed, whereupon, he very affection- 
ately sends me word — If I will make a deed of conveyance 
of my right to his estate, after his death to my younger 
brother, he will immediately furnish me with four thou- 
sand pounds, to pay my debts, and make my fortune. 
This was once proposed before, and I refused it ; but the 
present impatience of my creditors for their money* and my 
own impatience of confinement, and absence from Angelica, 
force me to consent. 

Scand. A very desperate demonstration of your love 
to Angelica ! And I think she has never given you any 
assurance of hers. 

VaL You know her temper, — she never gave me any 
great reason either for hope or despair. 

Scand. Women of her airy temper, rarely give us any 
light to guess at what they mean, but you have little reason 
to believe that a woman, who has had an indifference for 
you in your prosperity, will fall in love with your ill for- 
tune. Besides, Angelica has a great fortune of her own, 
and great fortunes either expect another great fortune, or a 
fool! 

Enter Jeremy, l. 2 e. 

Jer. More misfortunes, sir ! 

VaL What, another dun ? 

Jer. No, sir, but Mr. Tattle is come to wait upon 
you. 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 17 

Val. Well, I cannot help it, you must bring him up, 
he knows I don't go abroad. [Exit Jeremy, l. 2 e. 

Scand. I'll be gone ! [Exit l. 

Val. No, pr'ythee stay ! Tattle and Scandal should 
never be asunder, you are light and shadow, and show one 
another. He is perfectly thy reverse both in humor and 
understanding, and as you set up for a defamer of charac- 
ters, he is a mender of reputations. 

Scand. A mender of reputations ! Ay, just as he is 
a keeper of secrets, another virtue that he sets up for in the 
same manner. For the rogue will speak aloud in the pos- 
ture of a whisper, deny a woman's name, forswear receiv- 
ing a letter from her, and at the same time show you her 
hand in the superscription, and yet perhaps he has counter- 
feited her hand too, and sworn to a truth. In short, he is 
a public possessor of secrecy, and makes proclamation that 
he holds private intelligence. He is here ! 

Enter Tattle, l. 2 e. and comes down c. 

Tattle. Valentine, good morrow : Scandal, I am yours, 
that is, when you speak well of me. 

Scand. [l.] That is, when I am yours, for while I 
am my own, or any body's else, that will never happen. 

Tattle, [a] How inhuman ! 

Val. [r.] Well, Tattle, you need not be much con- 
cerned at any thing that he says, for to converse with Scan- 
dal, is to play at losing loadum, you must lose a good 
name to him, before you can win it for yourself. 

Tattle. But how barbarous that is, and how unfortu- 
nate for him, that the world shall think the better of any 
person for his calumniation ! I thank Heaven, it has al- 
ways been a part of my characters, to handle the reputa- 
tions of others very tenderly indeed ! 



18 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Scand. Ay, such rotten reputations as you have to 
deal with, are to be handled tenderly indeed. 

Tattle. Nay, why rotten ? Why should you say rot- 
ten, when you know not the- person of whom you speak ? 
How cruel that is ! As I hope to be saved, Valentine, I 
never exposed a Lady in all my life ! 

Vol. And yet you have conversed with several. 

Tattle. To be free with you, I have, — I don't care if 
I own that. 

Scand. What think you of that noble Commoner, 
Mrs. Drab ? 

Tattle. Pooh ! I know Madam Drab has made her 
brags in three or four places, that I said this and that, and 
writ to her, and did I know not what, — but, upon my re- 
putation, she did me wrong ! — Well — well — that was 
malice. She was bribed to that by one we all know — a 
man too — only to bring me into disgrace with a certain 
woman of quality. 

Scand. Whom we all know ! 

Tattle. No matter for that — yes, yes, every body 
knows, no doubt on't, every body knows my secrets ! but I 
soon satisfied the lady of my innocence, for I told her — 
Madam, says I, there are some persons who make it their 
business to tell stories, and says this and that of one and 
the other, and every thing in the world, — and, says I, if 
your Grace — 

Scand. Grace ! 

Tattle. Lord, what have I said ? My unlucky 
tongue ! 

Vol. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Scand. Why, Tattle, thou hast more impudence than 
one can in reason expect. I shall have an esteem for thee 
— well, and, ha, ha, ha ! Well, go on ! — and what did you 
say to her Grace ? 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 19 

Tattle. Not a word, as I hope to be saved, an arrant 
lapsus linguae ! — Come, let us talk of something else ! 

Val. Well, but how did you acquit yourself? 

Tattle. Pooh, pooh, nothing at all, I only rallied with 
you ! — A woman of ordinary rank was a little jealous of 
me, and I told her something or other — faith, I know not 
what. Come, let's talk of something else ! 

[Crosses to r. h. humming a song. 

Scand. Hang him, let him alone, he has a mind we 
should inquire ! 

Tattle. Valentine, I supped last night, with your 
mistress, and her uncle, old Foresight : I think your father 
lies at Foresight's. [Crosses to c. 

Val. Yes. 

Tattle. Upon my soul, Angelica's a fine woman ! 
And so is Mrs. Foresight, and her sister, Mrs. Frail ! 

Scand. Yes, Mrs. Frail is a very fine woman, we all 
know her. 

Tattle. that is not fair ! 

Scand. What ? 

Tattle. To tell ! 

Scand. To tell what ? Why, what do you know of 
Mrs. Frail? 

Tattle. Who, 1 ?■ Upon honor, I know nothing ! 

Scand. No I 

Tattle. No. 

Scand. ' She says otherwise. 

Tattle. Impossible ! 

Scand. Yes, faith ! Ask Valentine else. 
- Tattle. Why then, as I hope to be saved, I believe a 
woman only obliges a man to secrecy, that she may have 
the pleasure of telling herself. 

Scand. No doubt on it ! Well, but has she done you 
wrong, or no? 



20 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Tattle. Though I have more honor than to tell first, 
I have more manners than to contradict what a lady has 
declared. 

Scand. Well, you own it ? 

Tattle. I am strangely surprised ! Yes, yes, I cannot 
deny it ! 

Scand. She'll be here by-and-by. She sees Valentine 
every morning. 

Tattle. How ! 

Vol. She does me the favor of a visit sometimes. 

Enter Jeremy, l. 2. e. 

Jer. Sir, Mrs. Frail. 

Vol. Show her up ! [Exit Jeremy, l2b, 

Tattle. I'll be gone ! [Going, l. 2 e. 

Vol. You'll meet her ! 

Tattle. Is there not a back way ? [Crosses back to r. 

Vol. If there were, you have more discretion than to 
give Scandal such an advantage : why your running away 
will prove all that he can tell her ! 

Tattle. Scandal, you will not be so ungenerous ? O, 
I shall lose my reputation of secrecy for ever ! I shall 
never be received but upon public days — and my visits — 
never be locked in a closet, nor run behind a screen, or un- 
der a table, — never to be distinguished among the waiting 
women by the name of trusty Mr. Tattle more ! 

Mrs. Frail. [Outside l.] Shall I find him in his room ? 

Tattle. O unfortunate ! She's come already ! 

Enter Mrs. Frail, l. 2 e. 

Mrs. Frail, [l. c] I shall get a fine reputation by 
coming to see fellows in a morning ! Scandal, you devil, 
are you here too ? Oh, Mr. Tattle, every thing is safe with 
you, we know ! 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 21 

Scand. [a] Tattle ! 

Tattle, [a] Mum ! madam, you do me too much 
honor. 

Vol. [r.] Well. Lady Galloper, how does x\ngelica ? 

[Crosses c. 

Mrs. F. Angelica f Manners ! 

Vol. What, you will allow an absent lover. — 

Mr. F. [c] No, I'll allow a lover present with his 
mistress to be particular, — but otherwise, I think his passion 
ought to give place to his manners. 

Vol. [r. c] But what if he has more passion than 
manners ? 

Mrs. F. Then let him marry, and reform. 

Vol. Marriage indeed may qualify the fury of his pas- 
sion, but it very rarely mends a man's manners. 

Mrs. Frail. You are the most mistaken in the world 
— there is no creature perfectly civil, but a husband : for, 
in a little time he grows only rude to his wife, and that is 
the highest good breeding, for it begets his civility to other 
people. Well, I'll tell you news, but, I suppose, you hear 
your brother Benjamin is landed, — and my brother Fore- 
sight's daughter is come out of the country — I assure you 
there's a match talked of by the old people. Well, if he 
be but as great a sea-beast as she is a land-monster, we 
shall have a most amphibious progeny : — he has been bred 
at sea, and she has never been out of the country. 

Vol. Plague take them I Their conjunction bodes me 
no good, I'm sure ! 

Mrs. F. Now you talk of conjunction, my brother 
Foresight has cast both their nativities, and prognosticates 
a future Admiral, and an eminent Justice of the Peace ! 
'Tis the most superstitious old fool ! He would have per- 
suaded me that this was an unlucky day, and would not 
let me come abroad, but I invented a dream, and sent him 



22 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

to Artemidorus for interpretation, and so stole out to see 
you. Well, and what will you give me now ? Come ! 
What will you give me, Mr. Tattle ? [Crosses r. c. 

Tattle. 1 1 My soul, Madam ! 

Mrs. F. Pooh, no, I thank you ! Well, but I'll come 
and see you one of these mornings, — I hear you have a 
great many pictures. 

Tattle. I have a pretty good collection, at your ser- 
vice, some originals. 

Scand. Hang him, he has nothing but the Seasons, 
and the Twelve Caesars, paltry copies, and the Five Senses, 
as ill represented as they are in himself; and he himself is 
the only original you will see there ! 

Mrs. F. Ay, but I hear he has a closet of beauties. 

Scand. Yes, all that have looked on him with favor, 
if you will believe him. [r. m. b. 

Mrs. F. Ay, let me see those, Mr. Tattle ! 

Tattle. O, Madam, those are sacred to love and con- 
templation ! No man but the painter, and myself, was ever 
blest with the sight ! 

Mrs. F. Well, but a woman — 

Tattle. No woman, till she consented to have her pic- 
ture there too. 

Scand. No, no, come to me, if you'd see pictures. 

Mrs. F. You ? [ Crosses to l. c. 

Scand. Yes, faith, I can show you your own picture, 
and most of your acquaintance, to the life, and as like as at 
Kneller's. 

Mrs. F. lying creature ! Valentine, does not he 
lie ? I can't believe a word he says ! 

Val. No, indeed, he speaks truth now ; for, as Tattle 
has pictures of all that have shown him favor, he has the 
pictures of all that have refused him, — if satires, characters, 
and lampoons, are pictures ! 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 23 

Scand. Yes, mine are most in black and white, — and 
yet there are some set out in their true colors, both men 
and women. I can show you pride, folly, affectation, covet- 
ousness, dissimulation, malice, and ignorance, all in one 
piece ! Then I can show you lying, foppery, vanity, cow- 
ardice, bragging, and ugliness, in another piece, and yet, 
one of these is a celebrated beauty, and t'other a professed 
beau ! I have some hieroglyphics too. I have a lawyer, 
with a hundred hands, two heads, and but one face — a di- 
vine, with two faces and one head — and I have a soldier 
with his brains in his stomach, and his heart where his 
head should be ! 

Mrs. F. And no head ? 

Scand. No head. 

Tattle. No head! 

Mrs. F. Bless me, no head ! Pooh ! This is all in- 
vention ! I'll come if it be but to disprove you ! 

Enter Jeremy, l. 2 e. 

Jer. Sir, here's the Steward again from your father. 

Vol. I'll come to him. Will you give me leave ? I'll 
wait on you again presently. [ Crosses o. p. 

Mrs. F. [Going up to door l. 2 e.] No, I'll be gone. 
Come, who squires me to the Exchange ? I must call on 
my sister Foresight there. 

Scand. [Goes to her.] I will. I have a mind to your 
sister. 

Mrs. F. Civil ! 

Tattle. [Goes to Mrs. Frail.] 1 will, because I have 
a tendre for your ladyship. 

Mrs. F. That's somewhat the better reason, to my 
opinion. [Exit Mrs. F. and Tattle, l. 2 e.] 

Vol. Tell Angelica I am about making hard condi- 
tions, to come abroad, and be at liberty to see her. 



24 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Scand. I'll give an account of you and your proceed- 
ings. If indiscretion be a sign of love, you are the most 
a lover of any body that I know. You fancy that parting 
with your estate will help you to your Mistress. In my 
mind he is a thoughtless adventurer, 

" Who hopes to purchase wealth by selling land, 
Or win a mistress with a losing hand." 

[Exit Scandal, l. 2 e. Valentine sits at table r. h. and 
reads. 



End of Act I. 



Scene I. — A Boom in 
sight a: 




use. Enter Fore- 



Fore. Hey-dav! Wg\Liare .all lie women of my 
family abroad? Is Bi^mT^ife come home? Nor my 
sister? Nor my dan 

Serv. N< 

Fore. Mer 
Sure the moon 
gelica at home ? 

Serv. Yes, s: 

Fore. 1 1 

Serv. Sir 

Fore. I say, 
thing shou^^be as I 
when the 
wards. 

Serv. I can" 

Fore. No, 
foretell, sir. [Enter 
young mistress ? 

Nurse. Wee'st#heart 1 I know not, they're none of 
them come home yet. Iyor child, I warrant she's fond 
of seeing the town ! MarJ^, pray Heaven they have given 
her any dinner! GoojI lack-a-day, ha! ha! ha! O 



he meaning of it ? 
Is my niece An- 



impossible that any 

for, I was born, sir, 

asfcending, and all my affairs go back- 



mo\] 



deed, sir ! 

can't, sir ! But I can tell, and 
•e, r. h.] Nurse where's your 



3U 



26 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

strange, I'll vow and swear now, ha, ha, ha ! Marry, and 
did you ever see the like ? ^ 

Fore. Why, how now ? ^What's ^he matter ? 

Nurse. Pray Heaven send your worship good luck ! 
Marry, and amen, with all my- heart ! for you have put on 
one stocking with the wrong sideyuutward ! 

Fore. Ha! how? -"'Faith ^andjjroth, I'm glad of it; 
and so I have, that may be gqodjMk in troth, in troth it 
may, very good luck: nay, l J riave had some omens ! I got 
out of bed backwards too this morning, without premedita- 
tion, pretty good that too ! \ iBlft then I stumbled coming- 
down stairs, and met a weasel j— bad omens those ! Some 
bad, some good, our lives are checkered : Mirth and sor- 
row, want and plenty, night and da^make up our time. 
But, in troth, I am pleased^at my stocking — very well 
pleased at my stocking. [A hid6Jc.~] *{ph, here's my 
niece ! Sirrah, go tell Sir 1 Sampson^Legefid, I'll wait on 
him if he's at leisure. [Exit servant, l. h.] 'Tis now 
three o'clock, a very good hour for * business, — Mercury 
governs this hour. ^*^ A' 

Enter Angelica, l.u e. Nu*rse goes up and sits in chair, 

\ *•*• / 

Angel. Is it not a gqod hour Tor pleasure^too, Uncle ? 
Pray lend me your coach, — mine's out of^Rrer. 

Fore. What, would you be gadding, too ? Sure all 
females are mad to-day ! It is of ^vil ]fortent, and bodes 
mischief to the master of a family. l4remember an old 
prophecy, written by Messahalah, the Arabian, and thus 
translated by a reverend Buckinghamshire bard : 

"When housewifes all the house ibrsake, 
And leave good men tqibrew and bake, 
Withouten guile, then ue it said, 
That house doth stand upron its head, 




LOVE FOR LOVE. 2*7 

And when the head is set in ground, 
JSo mar'l, if it be fruitful found," 

Fruitful, the head fruitful : — the fruit of the head ! Dear 
niece, stay at home, — for by the head of the house is 
meant the husband, the prophecy needs no explanation ! 

Angel. Well, but I can neither endanger you, Uncle, 
by going abroad, nor secure you from danger, by staying 
at home. 

Fore. Yes, yes, while there's one woman left, the pro- ■ 
phecy is not in full force. 

Angel. But my inclinations are in force. I have a 
mind to go abroad, and if you won't lend me your coach, 
I'll take a hackney, or a chair. Why don't you keep your 
wife at home, if you're jealous of her when she's abroad ? 
You know my aunt is a little retrograde (as you call it) in 
her nature. Uncle, I'm afraid you are not Lord of the As- 
cendant ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Fore. Well, jill-flirt, you are very pert — and always 
ridiculing the celestial science. 

Angel. Nay, Uncle, don't be angry ! If you are, I'll 
reap up all your false prophecies, ridiculous dreams, and 
idle divinations. I'll swear you are a nuisance to the 
neighborhood. What a bustle did you keep against the 
last invisible eclipse, laying in provision, as it were for a 
siege! What a world of fire and candle, matches, and 
tinder boxes, did you purchase ! One would have thought 
we were ever after- to live under ground, or at least making 
a voyage to Greenland, to inhabit there all the dark season. 

Fore. Why, you malapert hussy ! 

Angel. Will you lend me your coach ? Or I'll go on — 
Nay, I'll declare how you prophecied Popery was coming, 
only because the butler had mislaid some of the apostle 
spoons, and thought they were lost. Away went religion 



28 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

and spoon-meat together ! Indeed, Uncle, I'll indite you for 
a wizard. 

Fore, How, hussy ! was there ever such a provoking 
minx ? ^ 

Nurse. O merciful ! how she talks. [Comes down, r. h. 

Angel. Yes, I can make oath of your unlawful mid- 
night practices, you, and the old nurse there ! 

Nurse. Marry, Heaven defend ! I at midnight prac- 
tices ! I, in unlawful doings with my master's worship ? 
Why, did you ever hear the like now? Sir, did ever 
I do any thing but warm your bed, and tuck you up, and 
set the candle and your tobacco box by you ? I ! 

[Exit r. crying. 

Angel. Yes, like Saul and the Witch of Endor, turn- 
ing the sieve and sheers, and pricking your thumbs, to 
write poor innocent servants' names in blood, about a 
little nutmeg-grater, which she had forgot in the caudle- 
cup. 

Fore. I defy you, hussy, but I'll remember this ! I'll 
be revenged on you, cockatrice, I'll hamper you ! You 
have your fortune in your own hands, but I'll find a way 
to make your lover, your prodigal spendthrift gallant, 
Valentine, pay for all, I will ! 

Angel. Will you ? I care not ! # 

Fore. This is the effect of the malicious conjunctions 
and oppositions in the third house of my nativity, there the 
curse of kindred was foretold. But I will have my doors 
locked up — I'll punish you, — not a man shall enter my 
house ! 

Angel. Do, Uncle, lock them up quickly, before my 
aunt comes home ! But let me be gone first, and then let 
no mankind come near the house, but converse with spirits 
and the celestial signs ! 

Fore. Come, you shall have my coach and horses ! 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 29 

faith and troth you shall. Does my wife complain ? Come, 
I know women tell one another. 

Angel. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Fore. Do you laugh? Well, gentlewoman, I'll — 
But come, be a good girl, don't perplex your poor uncle ! 
Tell me — won't you speak ? Odd, I'll — 

[Enter servant l. 1 e. 

Serv. Sir Sampson is coming down, to wait upon you, 
sir. 

Angel. Good bye, Uncle ! Call me a chair. I'll find 
out my aunt, and tell her she must not come home. 

[Exit, L. H. 

Fore. I am so perplexed and vexed, I am not fit to 
receive him, — I shall scarce recover myself before the hour 
be past ! Go, sir, tell Sir Sampson I'm ready to wait on 
him. 

Serv. Yes, sir. [Exit, l. h. 

Fore. Well, — why, if I was born to be so fool'd, 
there's no more to be said ! 

[Enter Sir Sampson, with a paper, l. h. 

Sir Samp. Nor no more to be done, old boy, that is 
plain — here it is, I have it in my hand, old Ptolemy, I'll 
make the ungracious prodigal know who begat him, I will, 
old Nostradamus ! What, I warrant, my son thought 
nothing belonged to a father, but forgiveness and affection, 
no authority, no correction, no arbitrary power — nothing 
-to be done, but for him to offend, and me to pardon ! I 
warrant you, if he danced till doomsday, he thought I was 
to pay the piper ! Well, but here it is under black and 
white, signatum, sigillatum, and deliberatum — that, as 
soon as my son Benjamin is arrived, he is to make over to 
him his right of inheritance ! Where's my daughter that 
is to be — ha ! Old Merlin ? Body o' me, I'm so glad I'm 
revenged on this undutiful rogue ! 



30 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Fore. Odso, let me see, let me see the paper ! Ay, 
faith and troth, here it is, if it will but hold. I wish things 
were done, and the conveyance made ! When was this 
signed ? What hour ? Odso, you should have consulted 
me for the time. Well, but we'll make haste. 

Sir Samp. Haste, ay, ay, haste enough, my son 
Ben will be in town to-night. I have ordered my lawyer 
to draw up writings of settlements and jointure — all shall be 
done to-night ! No matter for the time, pr'ythee, brother 
Foresight, leave superstition, plague o' th' time, there's no 
time but the time present ! If the sun shine by day and 
the stars by night, — why, we shall know one another's 
faces without the help of a candle, and that's all the stars 
are good for ! 

Fore. How, how, Sir Sampson ? that all ? Give 
me leave to contradict you, and tell you, you are igno- 
rant ! 

Sir Samp. I tell you I . am wise ; and sapiens do- 
minabitur Astris, there's Latin for you to prove it, and an 
argument to confound your Fphemeris ! Ignorant ! I 
tell you, I have travelled, old Fercu, and know the globe. 
I have seen the Antipodes, where the sun rises at midnight, 
and sets at noon-day ! 

Fore. [ Walks Sir Sampson back to l. h.] But I tell 
you, I have travelled, and travelled in the celestial spheres, 
know the signs and the planets, and their houses, can judge 
of motions direct and retrograde, of sextiles, quadrates, 
trines, and oppositions, fiery trigons, and aquatical tri- 
gons, know whether life shall be long or short, happy or 
unhappy, whether diseases are curable or incurable, if jour- 
neys shall be prosperous, undertakings successful, or goods 
stolen recovered : I know why — 

Sir Samp. [Back to c] I know the length of the 
Emperor of China's foot, have kissed the Great Mogul's 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 31 

slipper, and rid a hunting upon an elephant with the 
Cham of Tartary ! 

Fore. I know when travellers lie or speak truth, 
when they don't know it themselves. 

Sir Samp. I have known an astrologer made a fool, 
in the twinkling of a star, and seen a conjurer that could 
not keep the devil from his own wife. 

Fore. What, does he twit me with my wife too ? I 
must be better informed of this ! [^szefe.] Do you mean 
my wife, Sir Sampson ? By the body of the sun — 

Sir Samp. By the horns of the moon, you would say, 
brother Capricorn/ 

Fore. Capricorn in your teeth, thou modern Mande- 
ville, thou liar of the first magnitude ! Take back your 
paper of inheritance, send your son to sea again ! I'll wed 
my daughter to an Egyptian mummy, ere she shall marry 
with a contemner of sciences, and a defamer of virtue ! 

Sir Samp. Body o' me, I have gone too far ! An 
Egyptian mummy is an illustrious creature, my trusty 
hieroglyphic, and may have significations of futurity about 
him ! Odsbud, I would my son were an Egyptian mummy 
for thy sake. What, thou art not angry for a jest, my good 
Haly ? I reverence the sun, moon, and stars, with all my 
heart ! What, I'll make thee a present of a mummy ! Now 
I think on't, body o' me, I have' a shoulder of an Egyptian 
king, that I purloined from one of the pyramids, powdered 
with hieroglyphics ; thou shalt have it brought home to thy 
house ! 

Fore. But what do you know of my wife, Sir Samp- 
son ? 

Sir Samp. Thy wife is a constellation of virtues, she 
is the moon, and thou art the man with the bundle of sticks, 
nay, she is more illustrious than the moon, for she has her 
chastity without her inconstancy : 'sbud, I was but in jest! 



32 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Enter Jeremy, l. h. 

How now ? Who sent for you, ha ? What would you 
have ? 

Jer. Your son. 

Fore. Who's that fellow ? I don't like his physiog- 
nomy ! 

Sir Samp. [To Jeremy] My son, sir ! What son, sir ? 
My son Benjamin, ha ? 

Jer. No, sir, Mr. Valentine, my master, it is the first 
time he has been abroad since his confinement, and he comes 
to pay his duty to you. 

Sir Samp. Well, sir. 

Enter Valentine, l. h. 1 e. 

Jer. He is here, sir. [Go up l. h. 

Vol. Your blessing, sir. 

Sir Samp. You've had it already, sir, — I think I sent 
it you to-day in a bill of four thousand pounds ! A great 
deal of money, brother Foresight ! 

Fore. Ay, indeed, Sir Sampson, a great deal of money 
for a young man. I wonder what he can do with it ! 

Sir Samp. Body o' me, so do I ! Hark ye, Valen- 
tine, if there be too much, refund the superfluity, dost hear, 
boy? 

Vol. Superfluity, sir ! It will scarce pay my debts. 
I hope you will have more indulgence, than to oblige me 
to those hard conditions which my necessity signed to. 

Sir Samp. Sir ! How ? I beseech you, what were you 
pleased to intimate concerning indulgence ? 

Vol. Why, sir, that you would not go to the extremity 
of the conditions, but release me, at least, from some part. 

[Foresight sits at table, r. h. 
Sir Sa?np. O, sir, I understand you — that's all, ha ? 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 33 

Val. Yes, sir, all that I presume to ask. But what 
you, out of fatherly fondness, will be pleased to add, will 
be doubly welcome. 

Sir Samp. No doubt of it, sweet sir ; but your filial 
piety, and my fatherly fondness, would fit like two tallies. 
Here's a rogue, brother Foresight, would make a bargain 
underhand and seal in the morning, and would be released 
from it in the afternoon ; this is your wit now, this is the 
morality of your wits ! You are a wit. Why, sirrah, is it 
not here under hand and seal ? Can you deny it? 
Val. Sir, I don't deny it. 

Sir Samp. Sirrah, you'll be hanged ! I shall live to 
see you go up Holborn Hill ! Has he not a rogue's face ? 
Speak, brother, you understand physiognomy ; a hanging 
look, to me — of all my boys the most unlike me ; he has a 
damn'd Tyburn face ! 

Fore. [At Tableau. h. looks through telescope.] Hum! 
truly, I don't care to discourage a young man — he has a 
violent death in his face, but I hope no danger of hang- 
ing! 

Val. Sir, is this the usage for your son ? For that old 
weather-headed fool, I know how to laugh at him ; but you, 
sir — 

Sir Samp. You, sir, and you sir ! Why, who are 
you, sir ? 

Val. Your son, sir. 

Sir Samp. That's more than I know, sir : and I be- 
lieve not ! 

Val. Faith, I hope not. 

Sir Samp. What ! did you ever hear the like ? did 
you ever hear the like ? body o' me — 

Val. I would have an excuse for your barbarity, and 
unnatural usage. 

Sir Samp. Excuse ? — Impudence ! Why, sirrah, 
3 



34 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

mayn't I do what I please ? Are you not my slave ? did 
not I beget you ? And might not I have chosen whether I 
would, or no ? Oons ! who are you ? Whence came you ? 
What brought you into the world ? How came you here, 
sir ? Answer me that ! Did you come a volunteer into the 
world ? Or did I, with the lawful authority of a parent, press 
you to the service ? 

Val. I know no more why I came, than you do why 
you called me. But here I am, and if you don't mean to 
provide for me, I desire you would leave me as you found 
me. 

Sir Samp. With all my heart ! Come, uncase, strip, 
and go naked out of the world as you came into it. 

Val. My clothes are soon put off, — but you must also 
divest me of my reason, thought, passions, inclinations, af- 
fections, appetites, senses, and the huge train of attendants 
that you gave me. 

Sir Samp. Body o' me, what a many-headed monster 
have I propagated ! 

Val. I am, of myself, a plain, easy, simple creature* 
and to be kept at small expense : but the retinue that you 
gave me are so many devils that you have raised, and will 
have employment. 

\Retires and walks about in great agitation. 

Sir Samp. Oons ! what had I to do with children ? 
Can't a private man be born without all these followers ? 
— Why, nothing under an Emperor, should be born with 
appetites ! — Why, at this rate, a fellow that has but a groat 
in his pocket may have a stomach capable of a ten-shilling 
ordinary ! 

Jer. Nay, that's as clear as the sun, I'll make oath of 
it before any justice in Middlesex ! 

Sir Samp. Here's a cormorant, too ! — 'S'heart, this 
fellow was not born with you ? he's not mine, is he ? 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 35 

Jer. To tell your worship truth, I believe I am, for I 
find I was born with those same appetites too that my mas- 
ter speaks of. 

Sir Samp. Why, look you there, now ! 'S'heart, what 
should he do with a distinguishing taste ? I warrant now, 
he'd rather eat a pheasant, than a piece of poor John, — 
and music — don't you love music, scoundrel ? 

[Goes to him l. 

Jer. Yes, I have a reasonable good ear, sir, as to jigs 
and country dances, and the like. I don't much matter 
your solos or sonatas, they give me the spleen. 

Sir Samp. The spleen? Ha! ha! ha! Confound 
you! Solos or Sonatas? Dons, whose son are you? How 
were you engendered, muckworm ? 

Jer. I am, by my father, the son of a chairman ; my 
mother sold oysters in winter, and cucumbers in summer, 
and I came up stairs into the world, for I was born in a 
cellar. 

Fore. [At table, r.] By your looks, you should go up 
stairs out of the world too, friend ! 

Sir Samp. And if this rogue were anatomized now, 
and dissected, he has his vessels of digestion and concoc- 
tion, and so forth, large enough for the inside of a Cardinal, 
— this son of a cucumber ! Body o' me, why was not I 
a bear, that my cubs might have lived upon sucking their 
paws? [Vol. advances, l.] Nature has been provident 
only to bears and spiders ; the one has its nutriment in its 
own hands, and the other spins his habitation out of its own 
entrails ! [ Crosses, r. 

Vol. Fortune was provident enough to supply all the 
necessities of my nature, if I had my right of inheritance. 

Sir /Samp. Again ! Oons, han't you four thousand 
pounds ? If I had it again, I would not give thee a groat ! 
What, wouldst thou have me turn pelican, and feed thee 



36 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

out of my own vitals ! Ods-heart, live by your wits — you 
were always fond of the wits. Now, let's see if you have 
wit enough to keep yourself! Your brother will be in 
town to-night, or to-morrow morning, and then, look you 
perform covenants, and so your friend, and servant. Come, 
brother Foresight ! 

[Knocks his cane on table, which startles Foresight, and he 
exits with Sir Sampson, r. h. 

Jer. I told you what your visit would come to. 

Val. 'Tis as much as I expected. I did not come to 
see him, I came to Angelica ; but since she was gone abroad, 
it was easily turned another way, and at least looked well on 
my side ! What's here ? Mrs. Foresight, and Mrs. Frail ! They 
are earnest — I'll avoid' them ! Come this way, and go and 
inquire when Angelica will return. [Exeunt, r. h.] 

Enter Mrs. Foresight and Mrs. Frail, l. h. 

Mrs. Frail. Well, sister, as an earnest of friendship 
and confidence, I'll acquaint you with a design that I have- 
You have a rich husband, and are provided for : I am at a 
.loss, and have no great stock of fortune. Sir Sampson has 
a son, that is expected to-night, and by the account I have 
heard of his education, can be no conjuror. The estate, you 
know, is to be made over to him. Now, if I could wheedle 
him, sister, ha ? You understand me ? 

Mrs. Fore. I do, and will help you to the utmost of 
my power. And I can tell you one thing that falls out 
luckily enough. My awkward daughter-in-law, who, you 
know, is designed to be his wife, is grown fond of Mr. Tat- 
tle, — now, if we can improve that, and make her have .an 
aversion to this sailor, it may go a great way toward his 
liking you. Here they come together, and let us contrive 
some way or other to leave them together. 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 3*7 

Enter Tattle and Miss Prue, r. c. 

Miss P. [Running down, c] Mother, mother, mother, 
look you here ! 

Mrs. Fore. Fie, fie, miss, how you bawl ! Besides, I 
have told you you must not call me mother. 

Miss P. What must I call you then ? Are you not 
my father's wife ? 

Mrs. Pore. Madam, you must say madam. By my 
soul, I shall fancy myself old indeed, to have this great girl 
call me mother. Well, but miss, what are you so overjoyed 
at? 

Miss P. Loot you here, madam, then, what Mr. Tat- 
tle has given me. Look you here, cousin [Crosses^.], here's 
a snuff-box, nay, there's snuff in it — here, will you have 
any ? Oh, good ! how sweet it is ! Mr Tattle is all over 
sweet, his peruke is sweet, and his gloves are sweet, and 
his kandkerchief is sweet, pure sweet, sweeter than roses. 
Smell him, mother — madam, I mean ! He gave me this 
ring for a kiss ! ■ 

Tattle. Oh, fie, miss, you must not kiss and tell ! 

Miss P. Yes, I may tell my mother ! [Crosses.] Oh, 
pray lend me your handkerchief. Smell, cousin ! Is not it 
pure ? It's better than lavender, nurse. I'm resolved I 
won't let nurse put any more lavender among my clothes, 
— ha, cousin ? 

Mrs. Frail. Fie, miss ! 

Tattle. Oh, madam ! You are too severe upon miss, 
you must not find fault with her pretty simplicity, it be- 
comes her strangely. Pretty miss, don't let them persuade 
you out of your innocency ! [Goes up Stage with Miss P. 

Mrs. Frail. Ah, sly devil ! He thinks we don't ob- 
serve him ! 

Mrs. Fore. A cunning cur ! how soon he could find 
out a young, harmless creature ! 



38 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Mrs. Frail. They're all so, sister, these men, — they 
love to flatter a young creature, — they are as fcmd of it, as 
of being first in the fashion. I warrant it would break Mr. 
Tattle's heart, to think that any body else should be before- 
hand with him ! 

Tattle. [Coming down, r. c] Oh, Lord, I swear I 
would not for the world — 

Mrs. Frail. O hang you, who'll believe you ? We 
know you — she's very pretty ! What pure red and white ! 
Ne'er stir, I don't know, but I fancy if I were a man — 

Miss P. How you love to jeer one, cousin. 

Mrs. Fore. Hark'ee, sister, the girl is spoiled already 
— d'ye think she'll ever endure a great lubberly tarpaulin ? 
Gad, I warrant you she won't let him come near her, after 
Mr. Tattle. 

Mrs. Frail. I'm afraid not — eh ! filthy creature, that 
smells all of pitch and tar ! You confounded toad, why 
did you see her before she was married ? . 

Mrs. Fore. Nay, why did #e let him ? — My husband 
will think we brought them acquainted. 

Mrs. Frail. Come, let us be gone. [Crosses, r.] If my 
brother Foresight should find us with them, he'd think so, 
sure enough ! 

Mrs. Fore. So he would — but then the leaving them 
together is bad — and he's such a sly devil, he'll never miss 
an opportunity. 

Mrs. Frail. I don't care, — I won't be seen in it. 

Mrs. Fore. Well, if you should, Mr. Tattle, you'll have 
a world to answer for, — remember, I wash my hands of it, 
I'm thoroughly innocent. 

[Exeunt Mrs. Frail and Mrs. Foresight, r. h. ( 

Miss P. What makes them go away, Mr. Tattle ? — 
What do they mean, do you know ? 

Tattle. Yes, my dear, — I think I can guess — but hang 
me if I know the reason of it ! 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 39 

Miss P. Come, must not we go too ? 

Tattle. No, no, they don't mean that. 

Miss P. No ! What then ? What shall you and I 
do together ? 

Tattle. I must make love to you, pretty miss : will 
you let me make, love to you ? 

Miss P. Yes, if you please. [r. m. b. 

Tattle. Frank, egad, at least ! What does Mrs. Fore- 
sight mean by this civility ? Is it to make a fool of me ? 
Or does she leave us together out of good morality, and do 
as she would be done by ? — Egad, I'll understand it so ! 

\Aside. 

Miss P. Well, and how will you make love to me ? — 
Come, I long to have you begin ! — Must I make love too ? 
You must tell me how. 

Tattle. You must let me speak, miss : you must not 
speak first. I must ask you questions, and you must an- 
swer. 

Miss P. What is it ? Come, then, ask me. 

Tattle. D'ye think you can love me ? 

Miss P. Yes. 

Tattle. Pooh! you must not say, yes, already. I 
shan't care a farthing for you then, in a twinkling. 

Miss P. What must I say then ? 

Tattle. Why, you must say no, or, believe not, or, 
you can't tell. 

Miss P. [r.] Why, must I tell a lie then ? 

Tattle, [l.] Yes, if you'd be well bred. All well- 
bred persons lie ! — Besides, you are a woman, you must 
never speak what you think ; your words must contradict 
your thoughts, but your actions may contradict your words. 
So, when I ask you, if you can love me, you must say no 
but you must love me too. If I tell you, you are hand- 
some, you must say, I flatter you. But you must think 



40 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

yourself more charming than I speak you, — and like me for 
the beauty which I say you have, as much as if I had it 
myself. If I ask you to kiss me, you must be angry, but 
you must not refuse me. If I ask you for more, you must 
be more angry. 

Miss P. 0, I swear this is pure ! I like it better than 
our old-fashioned country-way of speaking one's mind. — 
And must not you lie too ? 

Tattle. Hum! yes — but you must believe I speak 
truth. 

Miss P. Gemini ! Well, I always had a great mind 
to tell lies — but they frighted me, and said it was a sin. 

Tattle. "Well, my pretty creature, will you make me 
happy by giving me a kiss ? 

Miss P. No, indeed, I'm angry at you ! 

[Runs and kisses him. 

Tattle. Hold, hold ! that's pretty well-r-but you should 
not have given it me, but have suffered me to have taken 
it. 

Miss P. Well, we'll do it again. 

Tattle. With all my heart ! [Kisses her. 

Miss P. O fie ! Now I can't abide you ! 

Tattle. My dear apt scholar ! 

JVurse. [Outside.] Miss Prue ! Miss Prue ! Where 
are you ? 

Miss P. JSTow I'll run, and make more haste than 
you. [Runs up stage* 

Tattle. [Running after her.] You shall not fly so 
fast, as I'll pursue ! [Exeunt, c. r. h. 



End of Act II. 



V: 



Scene 1. — Enter Valent™JScandal, and Angelica, c. 



Angel. You can't 
told you that I lovi 

Vol. But I car 
telling me whether 

Angel. You 
never had conce: 

Scand. Nor 
did ask you. I'll sa^ 

Angel. What^ 

Scand. Only 1 
for ill-nature. 

Angel. ^Persuade 



Enter Sir Sampsc 



ou. 



me of inconstancy, I never 

mcertainty, for not 

~v,e for uncertainty ; I 
f myself the question. 
\>ugh lo answer him that 
v „ml, Mafiam. 
Jtting unffor good nature ? 
station y it, as the women do 

mr friend Jnat it is all affectation. 
^— ^ [They go up. 



tat : 



lie' 



. Frail, Miss Prue, Tattle, and 
?^jant 1 r. h. 

Sir Samp. Is^BenlcoMe? Odso, my son Ben come? 
Odd, I'm glad on't ! Where! is he ? I long to see him ! 
Now, Mrs. Frail, you sHall sel my son Ben. — Body o'me, 
he's the hopes of my f^Fmily-fi han't seen him these three 
years — I warrant he's groww Qall him in, bid him make 
haste. [Exit servant^ L.]v#Fm ready to cry for joy ! 

Mrs. Frail. Now^JjSss, you shall, see your husband. 



42 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Miss P. He shall be none of my husband ! 

[Aside to Mrs. Frail. 
Mrs Frail'. Hush ! Well, he shan't leave that to me ! 
Mr. Tattle ! *f 

Valentine, is going, l. 

Angel. Won't you stay anc^see your brother ? 

Vol. We are the twin stars, and cannot shine in one 
sphere : when he rises, I must set. Besides if I should stay, 
I don't know but my father *in good nature may press me 
to the immediate signing the,.- deed of conveyance of my 
estate, and I'll defer it as long as I can. Well, you'll come 
to a resolution % \+ # 

Angel. I cannot. Eesolution must come to me, or I 
shall never have one. 

Scand. Come, Valence, I'll g"o with you, -I have some- 
thing in my head to communicate to your 

\Exeunt Scandal and Valentine, l. 

Sir Samp. [ Crosses to l.] What ! Is my son Valentine 
gone ? What ! Is he sneakecf^>ff, arM would not see his 
brother ? There's an unnatural whelp ! there's an ill-natured 
dog ! What ! Were you nere, too.- madam, and could not 
keep him ? Could neither love, nor duty, norjyitural affec- 
tion, oblige him ? Odsbudfmadam, have^Raore to say 
to him ; he is not worth Jfcur consideration ! The rogue 
has not a drachm of generous love abort him ! All interest, 
all interest ! He's an undone scou^Bl, and courts your 
estate ! Body o 'me, he does not care suloit for your person. 

Angel. I am pretty even with him, Sir Sampson, for, 
if ever I could have liked any thing in him, it should have 
been his estate too. But since that's gone, the bait's off, 
and the naked hook appears. 

Sir Samp. Odsbud, well spoken, and you are a wiser 
woman than I thought you were ! 

\ 



LOVE FOR LOVE* 43 

Angel. If I marry, Sir Sampson, I am for a good estate 
with my man, and for any man with a good estate ; there- 
fore, if I were obliged to make a choice, I declare I'd rather 
have you than your son. 

Sir Samp. Faith and troth, you are a wise woman> 
and I'm glad to hear you say so ! I was afraid you were in 
love with the reprobate. Odd, I was sorry for you with all 
my heart. Cast him off ! You shall see the rogue show 
himself, and make love to some desponding Cadua of four- 
score for sustenance ! Odd, I love to see a young spend- 
thrift forced to cling to an old woman for support, like ivy 
round a dead oak— faith I do ! I love to see them hug, 
and cotton together, like down upon a thistle ! 

. Enter Ben and Servant, l. h. 

Ben. Where's father ? 

Serv. There, sir, his back's towards you. [Exit, l. h. 

Sir $amp. My son Ben ! bless thee, my dear boy I 
Body o' me, thou art heartily welcome ! 

Ben. Thank you, father, and I'm glad to see you ! 

Sir Samp. Odsbud, and I-'m glad to see thee ! dear 
Ben ! [Embraces him. 

Ben. So, so, enough, father. — Mess, I'd rather kiss these 
gentlewomen. • . 

Sir Samp, And so thou shalt ! Mrs. Angelica, my . 
son Ben ! 

Ben. Forsooth, • if you please! [Salutes her.] Kay, 
mistress, I'm not for dropping anchor here : about ship, 
i'faith ! [Kisses Mrs. Frail.'] Nay, and you too, my little 
cock-boat ! so ! [Kisses Miss Price. 

Tattle. Sir, you're welcome ashore ! 

Ben. Thank you, thank you, friend ! 

Sir Samp. Thou hast been many a weary league, 
Ben, since I saw thee. 



44 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Ben. [Croses to l. c] Ey, ey, been ! Been far enough, 
and that be all. Well father, and how do all at home ? 
How does brother Dick, and brother Val ? 

Sir Samp. Dick ! Body o' me, Dick has been dead 
these two years. I writ you word when you were at Leg- 
horn. 

Ben. Mess, that's true : marry, I had forgot, Dick is 
dead, as you say. Well, and how ? I have a many questions 
to ask you : Well, you ben't married again ; father, be you ? 

Sir Samp. No, I intend you shall marry, Ben, — I 
would not marry for thy sake. 

Ben. Nay, what does that signify ? — An you marry 
again- — why then I'll go to sea again ; so there's one for 
t'other, an that be all ? — Pray don't let me be your hin- 
drance, e'en marry, an the wind sit that way. As for my 
part, mayhap I have no mind to marry. 

Mrs. Frail. That would be pity, such a handsome 
young gentleman ! 

Ben. Handsome ! He ! he ! he ! Nay, forsooth, an you 
• be for joking, I'll joke with you, for I love my jest, an the 
ship were sinking, as we said at sea. But I'll tell you why 
I don't much stand toward matrimony. I love to roam 
about from port to port, and , from land to land : I could 
never abide to be port bound, as we call it. Now, a man that 
is married has, as it were, d'ye see, his feet in the bilboes, 
and mayhap mayn't get them out again when he would. 

Sir Samp. Ben is a wag. -• 

Ben. A man that is married, d'ye see, is no more like 
another man, than a galley-slave is like one of us free sail- 
ors : he is chained to an oar all his life, and mayhap forced 
to tug a leaky vessel into the bargain ! 

Sir Samp. A very wag ! Ben is a very wag, only a 
little rough, he wants a little polishing. 

Mrs. Frail. Not at all, I like this humor mightily : 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 45 

it is plain and honest. I should like such a humor in a 
husband extremely. 

Ben. Say'n you so, forsooth ? Marry, and I should 
like such a handsome gentleman ! How say you, mistress ? 
Would you like going to sea ? Mess, you're a tight vessel, 
and well rigged ! But I'll tell you one thing, an you come 
to sea in a high wind, or that lady, you mayn't carry 
so much sail o' your head — top and top-gallant, by the 
mess ! 

Mrs. Frail. No ? Why so ? 

Ben. Why, an you do, you may run the risk to be 
overset — he ! he ! he ! 

Angel. I swear, Mr. Benjamin is the veriest wag in 
nature, an absolute sea wit ! 

Sir Samp. Nay, Ben has parts, but as I told you be- 
fore, they want a little polishing. You must not take any 
thing ill, madam. 

Ben. No, I hope the gentlewoman is not angry, I 
mean all in good part : if I give a jest, I'll take a jest, and 
so, forsooth, you may be as free with me. 

Angel. I thank you, sir, — I am not at all offended. 
But, methinks, Sir Sampson, you should leave him alone 
with his mistress. Mr. Tattle, we must not hinder lovers. 

[Crosses to r. 

Tattle. I have your promise. [Aside to Miss P. 

Sir Samp. Body o' me, madam, you say true ! [Crosses.] 
Look you, Ben, this is your mistress. Come, miss, you 
must not be shame-faced, we'll leave you together. 

[Passes her over to Ben, l. h. 

Miss P. I can't abide to be left alone. Mayn't my 
cousin stay with me ? 

Sir Samp. No, no ! Come, let's away ! 

Ben. [Crosses to Sir Samp.] Look you, father, mayhap 
the young woman mayn't take a liking to me ! 



46 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Sir Samp. I warrant thee, boy ! Come, come, we*ll 
be gone, I'll venture that ! [Pushes Ben to Miss P. l. h. 
[Exeunt Sir Sampson, Angelica, Tattle, and Mrs. Frail, r. 

Ben. Come, mistress, will you please to sit down ? 
For, an you stand astern a that'n, we shall never grapple 
together. Come, I'll haul a chair, there, an you please to 
sit, I'll sit by you. [Brings chairs l., they sit. 

Miss P. You need not sit so near one, if you have 
any thing to say, I can hear you further off,- — I an't deaf. 

[Moves her chair, 

Ben. Why, that's true, as you say, nor I an't dumb, — I 
can be heard as far as another — I'll heave off, to please you. 
[Sits further of, r.] An we were a league asunder, I'd 
undertake to hold discourse with you, an 'twere not a main 
high wind indeed, and full in my teeth. Look you, for- 
sooth, I am, as it were, bound for the land of matrimony : 
'tis a voyage, d'ye see, that was none of my seeking, I was 
commanded by father. How say you, mistress ? the short 
of the thing is, that, if you like me, and I like you, we may 
chance to swing in a hammock together. 

Miss P. I don't know what to say to you, nor I don't 
care to speak with you at all. 

Ben. JSTo ? I'm sorry for that ! But, pray, why are 
you so scornful ? 

Miss P. As long as one may not speak one's mind, 
one had better not speak at all, I think ; and truly I won't 
tell a lie for the matter. , 

Ben. Nay, you say true in that it's but a folly to lie, 
for to speak one thing, and to think just the contrary way, 
is, as it were, to look one way, and to row another. Now, 
for my part, d'ye see, I am for carrying things above-board, 
I'm not for keeping any thing under hatches, — so that if you 
ben't as willing as I, say so, — there's no harm done. May- 



LOVE FOR LOVE, 47 

hap you may be shame-faced. [Goes to her.] Some maid- 
ens, tho'f they love a man well enough, yet they don't care 
to tell'n so to's face. If that's the case, why silence gives 
consent ! 

Miss P. But I'm sure it is not so, for I'll speak sooner 
than you should believe that, and I'll speak truth, though 
one should always tell a lie to a man ; and I don't care, let 
my father do what he will, I'm too big to be whipt ; so 
I'll tell you plainly I don't like you, nor love you at all, 
nor never will, that's more ! So, there's your answer for 
you, and don't trouble me no more, you ugly thing. 

[Pises and gets round to r. h. 

Ben. Look you, young woman, you may learn to 
give good words, however. I spoke you fair, d'ye see, and 
civil. As for your love, or your liking, I don't value it of 
a rope's end, and mayhap I like you as little as you do 
me. What I said was in obedience to father. Gad, I 
fear a whipping no more than you do ! But I tell you 
one thing, if you should give such language at sea, you'd 
have a cat-o'-nine-tails laid across your shoulders ! Flesh ! 
Who are you ? You heard 'tother handsome young 
woman speak civilly to me, of her own accord. What- 
ever you think of yourself, gad, I don't think you are any 
more to compare to her, than a can of small beer to a bowl 
of punch ! 

Miss P. Well, and there's a handsome gentleman, 
and a fine gentleman, and a sweet gentleman, that was 
here, that loves me, and I love him ; and if he sees you 
speak to me any more, he'll thrash your jacket for you, he 
will, you great sea-calf ! 

Ben. What ! Do you mean that fair-weather spark 
that was here just now ? Will he thrash my jacket ? 
Let'n, let'en ! But an he comes near to me, mayhap I 
may giv'n a salt eel for's supper, for all that ! What does 



48 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

father mean, to leave me alone, as soon as I come home, 
with such a dowdy? Sea-calf? I an't calf enough to 
lick your chalked-face ! Marry thee ? Oons, I'll marry a 
Lapland witch as soon, and live upon selling contrary 
winds and wrecked vessels ! 

Miss P. I won't be called names, nor I won't be 
abused thus, no I won't ! If I were a man [cries] you 
durst not talk at this rate — no, you durst not, — you nasty 
tar-barrel ! [ Goes up stage. 

Enter Mrs. Foresight and Mrs. Frail, r. h. 

Mrs. Fore. They have quarrelled, just as we could 
wish ! 

Ben. Tar-barrel! let your sweetheart there call me 
so, if he'll take your part, your Tom Essence, and I'll say 
something to him. Gad, I'll lace his musk-doublet for 
him ! He shall smell more like a weasel than a civet cat, 
afore I ha' done with 'en ! 

Mrs. Fore. [ Crossing to Miss. P.] Bless me ! What's 
the matter, miss ? "What, does she cry ? Mr. Benjamin, 
what have you done to her ? 

Ben. Let her cry. She has been gathering foul 
weather in her mouth, and now it rains out at her eyes ! 

Mrs. Fore. Come, miss, come along with me, and 
tell me, poor child ! 

Mrs. Frail. Lord, what shall we do ? There's my 
brother Foresight, and Sir Sampson coming ! Sister, do 
you take miss down into the parlor, and I'll carry Mr. 
Benjamin into my chamber, for they must not know that 
they are fallen out. [Exit Mrs. Fore, and Miss P. l. h.] 
Come, sir, will you venture yourself with me ? 

[Looking kindly on him. 

Ben. Venture ? Mess, and that I will, though it 
were to sea in a storm ! [Exeunt Ben and Mrs. Frail, c. 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 49 

Enter StR Sampson and Foresight, r. h. 

Sir Samp. I left them together here. What, are 
they gone % Ben is a brisk boy, he has got her into a 
corner. Father's own son, faith ! he'll tousle her ! Odd, 
if he should, I could not be angry with him, 'twould be 
but like me, a chip of the old block ! Ha ! thou'rt melan- 
cholic, old prognostication, as melancholic as if thou hadst 
spilt the salt, or paired thy nails on a Sunday ! Come, 
cheer up, look about thee, — look up, old star-gazer! 
Now he is poring upon the ground for a crooked pin, or an 
old horse-nail, with the head towards him ! 

Fore. Sir Sampson, we'll have the wedding to-morrow 
morning. 

Sir Samp. With all my heart ! 

Fore. At ten o'clock, punctually at ten ! 

Sir Samp. To a minute, to a second, thou shalt set 
thy watch, and the bridegroom shall observe its motions, 
they shall be married to a minute ! 

Enter Servant, l. h. 

Serv. Sir, Mr. Scandal desires to speak with you upon 
earnest business. 

Fore. I go to him, Sir Sampson ! 

Sir Samp. What's the matter, friend ? 

Serv. Sir, 'tis about your son, Valentine ; something 
has appeared to him in a dream that makes him pro- 
phesy ! 

Enter Scandal, l. h. 

Scand. Sir Sampson, sad news ! 
Fore. Bless us ! 

Sir Samp. Why, what's the matter ? 
Scand. Something that ought to afflict you and him, 
and all of us. 



50 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Sir Samp. Body o' me, I don't know any universal 
grievance, but a new tax. 

Scand. Mr. Foresight knew all this, and might have 
prevented it. 

Fore. 'Tis no earthquake ? 

Scand. No, not yet ; nor whirlwind ! But w T e don't 
know what it may come to, — but it has had a consequence 
already, that touches us all. 

Sir Samp. Why, body o' me, out with it ! 

Scand. Something has appeared to .your son, Valen- 
tine ; he's very ill. He speaks little, yet he says he has a 
world to say, — asks for his father and the wise Foresight. 
I can get nothing out of him but sighs ! 

Sir Samp. Hoity-toity ! What have I to do with 
his dreams, or his divination ? This is a trick, to defer 
signing the conveyance. I warrant the devil will tell him, 
in a dream, that he must not part with liis estate, — but 
I'll tell him that the devil's a liar, — or, if that won't do, 
I'll bring a lawyer, that shall outlie the devil I . 

• [Exeunt, l. h. 



\ 

End of Act III. 



Scene — Valentine's Lo< 
Je 



Scand. Well 
madly, and talk m 

Jer. Yes, 
that ! He, tfet! 
ing, can't be muc 

Scand. /n V\^>uL 
reason of his dei 

Jer. No, sir! 
his playing the 
fall in love with 
him all this while, 

Scand^ I sav 
and think I J^rd her 

Jer. 
ing my master 
mistress. I hea 
believe he woul 

Scand. Well, I'/l 




Sc A.NDAL, L. 2 E. 



Does he look 

great doubt of 
esterday morn- 
adman to-day. 
uainted with the 

to try whether 

play the fool, and 

she has loved 



just now with her maid, 
bid the coachman drive hither, 
sir, for I told her maid this morn- 
stark mad, only for love of her 
stop : if it should be she, sir, I 
ir till he hears how she takes it. 
r — 'tis she, here she comes ! 



ee 



try 



Enter Angelica, l. 2. e. 

Angel. Mr. Scandal, 1/ suppose you don't think it a 
■ novelty to see a woman vjsit a man at his own lodgings in 
a morning ? 



52 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Scand. Not upon a kind occasion, madam. But, when 
a lady comes tyrannically to insult a ruined lover, and make 
manifest the cruel triumphs of her beauty, the barbarity of 
it something surprises me. 

Angel. I don't like raillery from a serious face. Pray 
tell me what is the matter ? 

Jer. No strange matter, madam, — my master's mad, 
that's all. I suppose your ladyship has thought him so a 
great while. f . 

Angel. How d'ye mean, mad ? [ Grosses to Jeremy. 

Jer. Why, faith, madam, *he's mad for want of his 
wits, just as he was poor for want of his money. His head 
is e'en as light as his pockets, and any body that has a mind 
to a bad bargain, can't do better than to beg him for his 
estate. 

Angel. If you speak truth, your endeavoring at wit is 
very unreasonable ! 

Scand. \_Aside^\ She's concerned, aad loves him. 

Angel. Mr. Scandal, you can't think ,me guilty of so 
much inhumanity, as not to ba concerned for a man I must 
own myself obliged to. Pray tell me the truth ! 

Scand. Faith, madam, I wish telling a lie would mend 
the matter. But this is no new effect of an unsuccessful 
passion. / 

Angel. [Aside?^ I know not what to think ! Yet I should 
be vexed to have a trick put upon me ! May I not see 
him? 

Scand. I'm afraid the physician is «not willing you 
should see him yet. Jeremy, go in, and inquire. 

[Exit Jeremy, c. 

Angel. Ha ! I saw him wink, and smile ! I fancy a 
trick — I'll try ! [^4side.] I would disguise to all the world, 
sir, a failing which I must own to you. I fear my happi- 
ness depends upon the recovery of Valentine. Therefore, 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 53 

I conjure you, as you are his friend, and as you have com- 
passion upon one fearful of affliction, to tell me what I am 
to hope for — I cannot speak — but you may tell me, for you 
know what I would ask ! 

Scand. So, this is pretty plain ! — Be not too much 
concerned, madam : I hope his condition is not desperate . 
An acknowledgment of love from you, perhaps, may work 
a cure, as the fear of your aversion occasioned his distemper. 

Angel. Say you so ? Nay, then, I'm convinced : and 
if I don't play trick for trick, may I never taste the pleasure 
of revenge ! [Aside.] Acknowledgment of love ! I find 
you have mistaken my compassion, and think me guilty 
of a weakness I am a stranger to. But I have too much 
sincerity to deceive you, and too much charity to suffer him 
to be deluded with vain hopes. Good nature and humanity 
oblige me to be concerned for him ; but to love, is neither 
in my power nor inclination. 

Scand. Hey, brave woman, i' faith ! Won't you see 
him then, if he desire it ? 

Angel. What signify a madman's desires ? Besides, 
'twould make me uneasy. If I don't see him perhaps my 
concern for him may lessen. If I forget him, 'tis no more 
than he has done by himself, and now the surprise is over, 
methinks I am not half so sorry as I was. [Crosses, l. 

Scand. You were confessing just now. an obligation 
to his love. 

Angel. But I have considered that passions are un- 
reasonable, and involuntary. If he loves, he can't help it : 
and if I don't love, I cannot help it, no more than he can 
help his being a man, or I my being a woman, or no more 
than I can help my want of inclination to stay longer here. 

[Exit, l. 2. e. 

Scand. Humph ! An admirable composition, faith, 
this same womankind ! 



54 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Enter Jeremy, c. 

Jer. What, is she gone, sir ? 

Scand. Gone ? Why she was never here, nor any 
where else, nor I don't know her if I see her, nor you 
neither ! 

Jer. Good lack ! What's the matter now ? Are any 
more of us to be mad ? Why, sir, my master longs to see 
her, and is almost mad in good earnest with the joyful news 
of her being here ! 

Scand. We are all under a mistake — ask no ques- 
tions, for I can't resolve you, but I'll inform your master. 
In the mean time, if our project succeed no better with his 
father than it does with his mistress, he may descend from 
his exaltation of madness, into the road of common sense, 
and be content only to be made a fool with other reason- 
able people. I hear Sir Sampson ! You know your cue ? 
I'll to your master. [Exit, c. d. 

Enter Sir Sampson, and Buckram, l. 2. e. 

Sir Samp. D'ye see, Mr. Buckram, here's the paper 
signed with his own hand. 

Buck, [l.] Good, sir ! And the conveyance is ready 
drawn, if he be ready to sign and seal. 

Sir Samp. Eeady ! body o' me, he must be ready, 
his sham sickness shan't excuse him ! — 0, here's his scoun- 
drel ! — Sirrah, where's your master ? 

Jer. [r. h.] Ah, sir, he's quite gone ! 

Sir Samp. Gone ! What, he is not dead ? 

Jer. No, sir, not dead. 

Sir Samp. What ! is he gone out of town ? Run 
away ? Ha ! has he tricked me ? Speak, varlet ! 

Jer. No, no, sir, he's safe enough, sir, an he were but 
as found, poor gentleman ! He is indeed here, sir, and not 
here, sir ! 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 55 

Sir Samp. Heyday ! rascal, do you banter me ? 
Sirrah, d'ye banter me ? — : Speak, sirrah ! Where is he ? 
for I will find him ! 

Jer. Would you could, sir, for he has lost himself. 
Indeed, sir, I have almost broke my heart about him — I 
can't refrain tears when I think of him, sir- — I'm as melan- 
choly for him as a passing bell, sir, or a horse in a pound ! 

Sir Samp. Confound your similitudes, sir ! Speak 
to be understood, and tell me in plain terms what the mat- 
ter is with him, or I'll crack your fool's skull ! 

[Raises his cane. 

Jer. Ah, you've hit it, sir, that's the matter with him, 
sir, his skull's cracked, poor gentleman ! He's stark mad, sir ! 

Sir Samp. Mad ! 

Buck. What ! is he non compos ? 

Jer. Quite non compos, sir ! 

Buck. Why, then, all's obliterated, Sir Sampson ! If 
he be non compos mentis, his act and deed will be of no 
effect ; it is not good in law. 

Sir Samp. Oons, I won't believe it! let me see him, 
sir. Mad ! I'll make him find his senses ! 

Jer. Mr. Scandal is with him, sir ; I'll knock at the 
door. 

[Goes to c. d., which opens, and discovers Valentine and 
Scandal. Valentine upon a couch, disorderly dressed. 
Scandal and Jeremy push the couch forward. 

Sir Samp. How now ? What's here to do ? 

[Crosses to r. 

Vol. Ha ! Who's that ? [Starting. 

Scand. For heaven's sake ! softly, sir, and gently, don't 
provoke him ! 

Vol. Answer me, who is that? and that? 

Sir Samp. Gads bobs ! does he not know ? Is he 
mischievous? I'll speak gently. [Crosses, o.] Val, Val, 



56 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

dost thou not know me, boy ? Not know thy own father, 
Val ? I am thy own father, and this, honest Brief Buck- 
ram, the lawyer ! 

Val. It may be so— I did not know you — the world 
is full. There are people that we do know, and people that 
we do not know, and yet the sun shines upon all alike. 
There are fathers that have many children, and there are 
children that have many fathers — 'tis strange ! — But I am 
honesty, and come to give the world the lie ! 

Sir Samp. Body o' me, I know not what to say to 
him ! 

Val. Why does that lawyer wear black ? does he 
carry his conscience without-side ? Lawyer, what art thou ? 
[Crosses.] Dost thou know me ? [Exit to Buckram. 

Buck. O Lord, what must I say ? Yes, sir ! 

Val. Thou liest, for I am honesty ! 'Tis hard I can- 
not get a livelihood amongst you ! I have been sworn out 
of Westminster Hall the first day of every term — let me 
see — no matter how long. For my part, I am honesty, 
and can't tell, I have very few acquaintance ! 

[Goes up c. and throws himself on couch. 

Sir Samp. [Gets to r. h. in fear.'] Body o' me, he 
talks sensibly in his madness ! Has he no intervals ? 

[To Jeremy. 

Jer. Very short, sir. . 

Buck. Sir, I can do you no service while he's in this 
condition. Here's your paper, sir ! He may do me a mis- 
chief if I stay. [Exit l. 2 e. 

Sir Sa?np. Hold, hold, don't you go yet ! 

Scand. You'd better let him go, sir, and send for him 
if there be occasion, for I fancy his presence provokes him 
more. 

Val. Is the lawyer gone ? 'Tis well, then we may 
drink about without going together by the ears. Heigh- 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 5*7 

ho ! What o'clock is it ? My father here ? Your bless- 
ing, sir. [Falls on his knees. 
Sir Samp. He recovers ! — Bless thee, Val ! How 
dost thou do, boy ? [Goes timidly towards him. 

Val. Thank you, sir, pretty well. I have been a 
little out of order. Won't you please to sit, sir ? 

Sir Samp. Ay, boy ! Come, thou shalt sit down 
by me. 
[Puts cane on table, r., and goes timidly to sofa, c. and sits. 

Val. Sir, 'tis my duty to wait. 

Sir Samp. No, no ! come, come, sit thee down, 
honest Yal. [ Val. appears to be scratching the ground — 
Sir Sampson watches him with great fear, and gradually 
gets over the sofa and runs for his cane.] Come, come, Val, — 
no more of this — sit down. [ Val. sits on sofa.] How dost 
thou do? let me feel thy pulse. Oh, pretty well now, Val. 
Body o' me, I was sorry to see thee indisposed; but I am 
glad thou art better, honest Val ! 

Val. I thank you, sir. 

Scand, Miracle ! The monster grows loving ! 

[Aside. 

Sir Samp. Let me feel thy hand again, Val. It does 
not shake, — I believe thou canst write, Val. Ha, boy ? thou 
canst write thy name, Val ? Jeremy, step and overtake Mr. 
Buckram, bid him make haste back with the conveyance — 
quick ! [Exit Jeremy, l. 2 e. 

Scand. That ever I should suspect such a heathen of 
any remorse ! [Aside. 

Sir Samp. Dost thou know this paper, Val? I 
know thou'rt honest, and wilt perform articles. 

[Showing Val. paper, but holding it out of his reach. 

Val. Pray let me see it, sir. You hold it so far off, 
that I can't tell whether I know it, or no ! 

Sir Samp. See it, boy ! Ay, ay, why thou dost see 
4 



58 LOVE FOR LOTE. 

it — 'tis thy own hand, Vally ! Why, let me see, I can 
read it, as plain as can be ; look you here — [Beads] u The 
condition of this obligation." Look you, as plain as can 
be, so it begins. And then at the bottom — " As witness 
my hand, Valentine Legend" — in great letters ! Why, 'tis 
as plain as the nose in one's face ! What, are my eyes 
better than thine ? I believe I can read it further off yet — 
let me see. [Stretches his arm as far as he can. 

Val. Will you please to let me hold it, sir ? 

Sir Samp. Let thee hold it, say'st thou ? Ay, with 
all my heart ! What matter is it who holds it ? What 
need any body hold it ? I'll put it in my pocket, Yal, and 
then nobody need hold it ! [Puts the paper in his pockety 
There Val: it's safe, boy. But thou shalt have it as soon 
as thou hast set thy h^nd to another paper, little Val ! 

Enter Jeremy and Buckram, l. 2 e. 

Val. [Starts, Sir Samp, jumps up and runs, r. h.] 
What, is my bad genius here again ? Oh, no, 'tis the 
lawyer with an itching palm, and he's come to be scratch- 
ed ! My nails are not long enough. Let me have a pair of 
red-hot tongs quickly, quickly, and you shall see me act St. 
Dunstan, and lead the devil by the nose. [Leads Buckram 
by nose. Buckram runs out, l. 2 e.] Ha ! ha ! ha ! You 
need not run so fast. Honesty will not overtake you ! 

Sir Samp. Oons, what a vexation is here ! I know 
not what to do or say, or which way to go. 

Val. Who's that that's out of his way ? I am 
Honesty, and can set him right. Harkee, friend [Crosses to 
Jeremy], the straight road is the worst way you can go. But 
it is wonderful strange, Jeremy. 

Jer. What is, sir ? 

Val. That grey hairs should cover a green head, and I 
make a fool of my father. [Enter Foresight, Mrs. F. and 
Mrs. Frail, l. 2 e.] What's here ? Err a Pater, or a 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 59 

bearded sibyl ? If prophecy comes, Honesty must give 
place. [Exeunt Valentine, Jeremy, c. r. 

Fore. What says he ? What did he prophesy ? Ha, 
Sir Sampson ! Bless us ! how are we ? 

Sir Samp. Are we ? A plague o' your prognostica- 
tion ! Why, we are fools as we- used to be. Oons, that 
you could not foresee that the moon would predominate, 
and my son be mad ! Ah ! that I who know the world, 
and men and manners, who don't believe a syllable in the 
sky and stars, and sun and almanacks, and trash, should be 
directed by a dreamer, an omen-hunter, and defer business 
in expectation of a lucky hour ! when, body o' me ! 
there never was a lucky hour after the first opportunity ! 

[Exit, l. 2 e. 

Fore. Ah, Sir Sampson, Heaven help your head ! 
This is none of your lucky hour — Nemo omnibus horis. 
sapitf What, is he gone, and in contempt of science? 
Ill stars, and uncontrovertible ignorance attend him ! 

Scand. You must excuse his passion, Mr. Foresight, 
for he has been heartily vexed. His son is non compos men- 
tis, and thereby incapable of making any conveyance in 
law, so that all his measures are disappointed. 

Fore. Ha ! say you so ? 
Mrs. Frail. What, has my sea lover lost his anchor of 
hope, then ? [Aside to Mrs. Foresight. 

Mrs. Fore. sister, what will you do with him ? 

Mrs. Frail. Do with him ? Send him to sea again in 
the next foul weather. He's used to an inconstant element, 
and won't be surprised to see the tide turned. 

Fore. Wherein was I mistaken, not to foresee this ? 

[ Considers. 

Scand. You look pretty well, Mrs. Foresight. How 
did you rest last night ? 

Fore. Truly, Mr. Scandal, I was so taken up with broken 
dreams, and distracted visions, that I remember little. 



60 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Scand. But would you not talk with Valentine ? Per- 
haps you may understand him; lam apt to believe, there is 
something mysterious in his discourse, and sometimes rather 
think him inspired than mad. 

Fore. You speak with singular good judgment, Mr. 
Scandal, truly. I am inclining to your Turkish opinion in 
this matter, and do reverence a man whom the vulgar think 
mad. Let us go to him. [Exeunt, c. 

Mrs. Frail. Sister, do you go with them, I'll find out 
my lover, and give him his discharge, and come to you. 

[Exit Mrs. Foresight, c. d. 
On my conscience here he comes ! [Sits on sofa. 

Enter Ben, l. 2 e. 

Ben. All mad, I think ! Flesh, I believe all the Ca- 
lentures of the sea are come ashore, for my part. 

Mrs. Frail. Mr. Benjamin in choler ! 

Ben. No, I'm pleased well enough, now I have found 
you. Mess, I have had such a hurricane upon your account 
yonder. [Sits by her. 

Mrs. Frail. My account ? — Pray, what's the matter ? 

Ben. Why, father came and found me squabbling with 
yon chitty-faced thing, as he would have me marry, so he 
asked what was the matter. He asked in a surly sort of 
a way. It seems brother Val is gone mad, and so that 
put'n into a passion, but what did I know that ? What's 
that to me ? — So he asked in a surly sort of manner, and, gad, 
• I answered 'em as surlily ! What tho'f he be my father, I 
an't bound prentice to 'em : so, faith, I told'n in plain terms, 
if I were minded to marry, I'd marry to please myself, not 
him ; and for the young woman that he provided for me, 
I thought it more fitting for her, to learn her sampler, and 
make dirt pies, than to look after a husband ; for my part, 
I was none of her man — I had another voyage to make, 
let him take it as he will ! 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 61 

Mrs. Frail. So then, you intend to go to sea again ? 

Ben. Nay, nay, my mind run upon you — but I would 
not tell him so much. So he said, he'd make my heart 
ache, and if so be that he could get a woman to his mind, 
he'd marry himself. Gad, says I, an you play the fool, and 
marry at these years, there's more danger of your head's 
aching than my heart ! He was woundy angry when I 
giv'n that wipe — he hadn't a word to say, and so I left'n 
and the green girl together ; mayhap the bee may bite, and 
he'll marry her himself, — with all my heart ! 

Mrs. Frail. And were you this undutiful and grace- 
less wretch to your father ? 

Ben. Then why was he graceless first? 
* Mrs. Frail. [Bises.] impiety ! how have I been mis* 
taken ! What an inhuman merciless creature have I set 
my heart upon ! O, I am happy to have discovered the 
shelves and quicksands that lurk beneath that faithless 
smiling face ! [Crosses to l. 

Ben. Hey, toss ? What's the matter now ? Why you 
ben't angry, be you ? 

Mrs. Frail. O see me no more, [Crosses, r.] for thou 
wert born amongst rocks, suckled by whales, cradled in a 
tempest, and whistled to by winds, and thou art come forth 
with fins and scales, and three rows of teeth, a most out- 
rageous fish of prey ! 

Ben. O Lord, O Lord, she's mad, poor young woman! 
love has turned her senses, her brain is quite overset ! — 
Well-a-day, how shall I do to set her to rights ? 

Mrs. Frail. No, no, I am not mad, monster ; I am 
wise enough to find you out ! — Hadst thou the impudence 
to aspire at being a husband, with that stubborn and dis- 
obedient temper ? You, that know not how to submit to a 
father, presume to have a sufficient stock of duty to undergo 
a wife ? I should have been finely fobbed, indeed, very 
finely fobbed ! 



62 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Ben. Harkee, forsooth ! If so be that you are in your 
right senses, d'ye see, for aught as I perceive I'm likely to 
be finely fobbed — if I have got anger here upon your ac- 
count, and you are tacked about already ! What d'ye 
mean, after all your fair speeches, and stroking my cheeks, — 
what would you sheer off so ? — Would you, and leave me 
aground ? 

Mrs. Frail. No, Til leave you adrift, and go which 
way you will ! 

Ben. What, are you false-hearted then ? 

Mrs. Frail. Only the wind's changed. 

Ben. More shame for you ! — The wind's changed ! It 
is an ill wind blows nobody good ! Mayhap I have a good 
riddance on you, if these be your tricks. What, did yau 
mean all this while to make a fool of me?. 

Mrs. Frail. Any fool but a husband. 

Ben. Husband ! Gad, I would not be your husband, 
if you would have me, now I know your mind, tho'f you 
had your weight in gold and jewels, and tho'f I loved you 
never so well ! 

Mrs. Frail. Why, canst thou love, Porpus ? 

Ben. No matter what I can do, don't call names — I 
don't love you so well as to bear that, whatever I did. I'm 
glad you show yourself, mistress : — let them marry you as 
don't know you. Gad, I know you too well, by sad ex- 
perience, — I believe he that marries you will go to sea in 
a henpecked frigate ! I believe that, young woman ! So 
there's a dash for you, take it as you will, mayhap you may 
hollow after me when I won't come to ! [Exit, l. 2 e. 

Mrs. Frail. Ha, ha, ha! No doubt on't ! [Sings.'] 
" My true love is gone to sea !" [Enter Mrs. Foresight, c] 
O, sister, had you come a minute sooner you would have 
seen the resolution of a lover. Honest Tar and I are parted, 
— and with the same indifference that we met. 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 63 

Mrs. Fore. What then, he bore it most heroically ? 

Mrs. Frail. Most tyrannically! But I'll tell you a 
hint that he has given me. Sir Sampson is enraged, and 
talks desperately of committing matrimony himself. Now, 
if we could bring it about ! 

Mrs. Fore. O hang him, old fox ! he's too cunning ; 
besides, he hates both you and me. But I have a project 
in my head for you, and I have gone a good way towards 
it. I have almost made a bargain with Jeremy, Valentine's 
man, to sell his master to us. 

Mrs. Frail. Sell him ? How ? 

Mrs. Fore. Valentine raves upon Angelica, and took 
me for her, and Jeremy says, will take any body for her that 
he imposes on him. Now, I have promised him mountains, 
if in one of his mad fits he will bring you to him in her 
stead, and get you married together, — and if he should recover 
his senses, he'll be glad, at least, to make you a good settle- 
ment. Here they come, stand aside a little, and tell me 
how you like the design. 

Enter Scandal and Jeremy, c. 

Scand. And have you given your master a hint of 
their plot upon him ? [To Jeremy.' 

Jer. Yes, sir, he says he'll favor it, and mistake her for 
Angelica. 

Enter Valentine and Foresight, c. Valentine has hold 
of Foresight's cravat, and leads him forward. 

.; Scand. It may make us sport. 
Fore. Mercy on us ! 

Vol. Hush't ! Interrupt me not — I'll whisper predic- 
tion to thee, and thou shalt prophesy ? I have told thee 
what's past — now I'll tell what's to come. Dost thou know 
what will happen to-morrow ? Answer me not — for I will 



64 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

tell thee. To-morrow knaves will thrive through craft, and 
fools through fortune, and Honesty will go as it did, — frost- 
nipt in a summer-suit. Ask me questions concerning to- 
morrow. 

Sxand. Ask him, Mr. Foresight. 
Fore. Pray what will be done at Court ? 
Val. Scandal will tell you. I am Honesty, — I never 
come there. [Crosses, l. 

Fore. In the city ? 

Val. Oh, prayers will be said in empty churches, at the 
usual hours. Yet you will see such zealous faces behind 
counters, as if religion were to be sold in every shop. Oh ! 
things will go methodically in the city. The clocks will 
strike twelve at noon, and the horned herd buzz in the ex- 
change at two. Husband and wives will drive distinct 
trades, and care and pleasure separately occupy the family. 
But hold, I must examine you before I go further, you look 
suspiciously. Are you a husband ? 
Fore. I am married. 

Val. Poor creature ! Is your wife of Covent Garden 
parish ? 

Fore. No. St. Martin in the Fields. 
Val. Alas, poor man ! his eyes are sunk, and his hands 
shrivelled, his legs dwindled, and his back bowed. Pray, 
pray for a metamorphosis. Change thy shape and shake 
off age, get the Medea's kettle and be boiled anew, come 
forth with laboring, callous hands, a chine of steel, and 
Atlas' shoulders. Let Taliacotius trim the calves of twenty 
chairmen, and make thee pedestals to stand erect upon, and 
look matrimony in the face. [Goes up and sits on sofa. 
Fore. His frenzy is very high now, Mr. Scandal. 
Scand. I believe it is a spring-tide. 
Fore. Very likely, truly. You understand these mat- 
ters. Mr. Scandal, I shall be very glad to confer with, you 



■lb? ' 



t. 



LOVE \OR LOVE. 



65 



about these things w\uciAfife 3as uttered. His sayings are 
very mysterious, and m^ogfljphical. 

Val. Oh, why wouloNqJgelica be absent from my eyes 
so long ? 

Jer. She's here, 

Mrs. Fore. Now, 

Mrs. Frail. O LordJ 

Scand. Humor him, 

Val. Where is she ?< 
riches, health, and liberty 
and abandoned wret 

[Advance! 

Mrs. Frail. 

Val. 
and the moon 
married in the dead 
men shall put his t» 
secret, and J 
he may fold h\ Ogling 
ha? nobody shanfcnow ftuCTeremy 

Mrs. Frail. 5^, no, we'll keep it secret ! 

FoflL The sooler&eJbetter. Xdremy, come hither — 
closer — tn^Lnone may ovenfe 1 UT B U!§; Jeremy, I can tell you 
news. Angela isfeurned nun, and I am turned friar ; and 
yet we'll marr\ onafenother in spite of the pope ! Get me 
a cowl and raids, jnat I may play my part — for she'll meet 
me two hours henie in\)lack and white, and a long veil to 
cover the project ;/and \% won't see one another's faces ! 



m$dam, /y all m\ans. 

I s/e her ! — i he comes like 

nce/to a despa: 'ing, starving, 

welcome, welco ne ! 

•s. Frail and Jcu ses her hand. 

Can I serv< you ? 

et to tell yo i — Endymion 

i Iwfount Latmls, and we'll be 

t say not la word. Hy- 

lanternjthat it may be 

acock p/ppy-water, that 

hundied eyes be shut, 



Enter Tattle cmd Angelica, l. 2 e. 

Jer. I'll take care, a#d — 

Val. Whisper-^Jffiff etm t Val. Jer. & Mrs. Frail, c # 
Angelica: ¥afig$.' Tattle, if you make love to me, 
4* 



66 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

you spoil my design, for I intend to* make you my con- 
fidant, v^ 

S cartel. How's this ! Tattle making love to Angelica ! 

Tattle. But, madam, to*thfow away your person, such 
a person ! and such a fortunefon a» madman ! 

Angel. I never loved mjn Jill he was mad, but don't 
tell any body so. > C. ¥ 

Tattle. Tell, madam ! $Jas you don't know me ! — I 
have much ado to tell your ladyship how long I have been 
in love with you — but encouraged by the impossibility of 
Valentine's making any more addresses to you, I have 
ventured to declare the verylnmost'passion of my heart ! 
Oh, madam, compare us ! In Valentine, you see the ruins 
of a poor decayed creature ! Here, a complete^ lively figure, 
with youth and health, an*d ail his fivs senses in perfection, 
madam, and to all this the most passionate lover. — 

Angel. O, fie for shgfme, hold your tongue ! A pas- 
sionate lover, and five senses h> perfection*! When you 
are as mad as Ifalentine, Til Relieve you loy'e me, and the 
maddest shall take me. t 

\ t 

Re-enter Valentine, Mrs, Frail, and Jeremy, c. 

Val. It is enough-;— Ha ! who's here ? f 

Mrs. Frail. O Lord, her coming will spoil all ! 

• t t [To Jeremy. 

Jer. No, no, madam, he won't know heWif he should, 
I can persuade him. y 

Val. Scandal, who are thesfc ? [Comes forward, c. 
tvith Scandal] Foreigners ? Iff they are, I'll tell you 
what I think. Get away all ise company but Angelica, 
that I may discover my design to her. [ Whispers. 

Scand. I will — I have discovered something of Tattle * 
that is of a piece with Mrs. Frail.VHe courts Angelica; if 
we could contrive to couple them t€^e%er. Hark'ee — 

[Whispers. Scandal fhul Val. retire, c. d 



fttul Val. ret 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 6? 

Mrs. Fore. He won't know yon, cousin, he knows 
nobody. 

Fore. But he knows more than any body ! Oh, niece, 
he knows things past and to come, and all the profound 
secrets of time. 

Tattle. Look you, Mr. Foresight [Crosses], it is not iny 
way to make many words of matters, and so I shan't say 
much. But in short, d'ye see, I will hold you a hundred 
pounds now that I know more secrets than he ! 

Fore. How ? I cannot read that knowledge in your 
face, Mr. Tattle. — Pray, what do you know ? 

Tattle. Why, d'ye think I'll tell you, sir $ Read it in 
my face ? No, sir, it is written in my heart, and safer there, 
sir, than letters written in juice of lemon, for no fire can 
fetch it out ! I am no blab, sir ! 

He-enter Valentine and Scandal, c. 

Val. Acquaint Jeremy with it, he may easily bring it 
about, They are welcome, and I'll fell them so myself. 
[To Scandal,] What, do you look strange upon me ? Then 
I must be plain. [Coming up to them.] I am Honesty, and 
hate an old acquaintance with a new face. 

[Scandal goes aside with Jeremy. 

Tattle. Do you know me, Valentine? [Crosses to Val. 

Val. You ! Who are you ? No, I hope not. 

Tattle* I am Jack Tattle, your friend. 

Val. My friend ! What to do ? I am no married 
man ! I am very poor, and thou canst not borrow money 
of me. Then what employment have I for a friend. 

Tattle. Ha ! A good open speaker, and not to be 
trusted with a secret. [Crosses to l. corner. 

Angel. Do you know me, Valentine ? [Goes to him. 

Val. Oh, very well ! 

Angel. Who am I ? 



68 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Val. You're a woman — one to whom Heaven gave 
beauty, when it grafted roses on a briar. You are the re- 
flection of Heaven in a pond, and he that leaps at you is 
sunk. You are all white, a sheet of lovely, spotless paper, 
when you are first born, but you are to be scrawled and 
blotted by every goose's quill. I know you, for I loved a 
woman, and loved her so long that I found out a strange 
thing. I found out what a woman was good for. 

Tattle. Ay; pr'ythee, what's that ? 

Val. Why, to keep a secret. 

Tattle. OLord! 

Val. 0, exceeding good to keep a secret : for though 
she should tell, yet she is not believed. [Retires to couch. 

Tattle. Ha ! good again, faith ! 

[Jeremy and Scandal whisper, 

Jer. I'll do't, sir. 

Scand. Mr. Foresight, we had best leave him. He 
may grow outrageous, and do mischief. 

Fore. I will be directed by you. Mercy on us ! 

[Exit Foresight, l. 2 e. 

Jer. [To Mrs. Frail.] You'll meet, madam. I'll take 
care every thing shall be ready. 

Mrs. Frail. Thou shalt do what thou wilt ; in short, I 
will deny thee nothing. [Exit Mrs. Frail, l. 2 e. 

Tattle. Madam, shall I wait upon you ? [To Angelica. 

Angel. No, I'll stay with him. Mr. Scandal will pro- 
tect me. Aunt, Mr. Tattle desires you would give him 
leave to wait on you. 

Tattle. There's no coming off now she has said that. 
Madam, will you do me the honor ? 

Mrs. Fore. Mr. attle might have used less ceremony ! 

[Crosses to Tattle, Tattle turns to look at Val. who draws 

his sword and Tattle and Mrs. F. run out, l. 2 e. 

Scand. Jeremy, follow Tattle. [Exit Jeremy, l. 2 e. 



LOVE FOR LOVE. (59 

Angel. [Sits in chair, r. h.] Mr. Scandal, I only stay 
till my maid comes, and because I had a mind to be rid of 
Tattle. - 

Scand. Madam, I am very glad that I overheard a 
better reason which you gave to Mr. Tattle, for his imper- 
tinence forced you to acknowledge a kindness for Valentine, 
which you denied to all his sufferings and my solicitations. 
So I'll leave him to make use of the discovery, and your 
ladyship to the free confession of your inclinations. 

Angel. Oh, heavens ! You w$n't leave me alone with 
a madman ? 

Scand. No, madam, I only leave a madman to his 
remedy. * [£kit, l. 2 e. 

Val. Madam, you need not be very much afraid, for 
I fancy I begin to come to myself. 

Angel. [JRises.] Ay, but if I don't fit you, I'll be 
hanged ! [Aside. 

Val. [Rises^\ You see what disguises love makes us 
put on. Gods have been in counterfeited shapes for the 
same reason, and the divine part of me, my mind, has worn 
this mask of madness, and this motley livery, only as the 
slave of love, and menial creature of your beauty ! 

Angel. Mercy on me, how he talks ! — poor Valentine ! 

Val. Nay, faith, now let us understand one another, 
hypocrisy apart, and let us think of leaving acting, and be 
ourselves, and since you have loved me, you must own, I 
have at length deserved you should confess it. 

Angel. \_Sighs.~] I would I had loved you ! — for, 
Heaven knows, I pity you, and, could I have foreseen the 
sad effects, I would have striven, — but that's too late. 

Val. What sad effects? What's too late? My 
seeming madness has deceived my father, and procured me 
time to think of means to reconcile me to him, and preserve 
the right of my inheritance to his estate, which otherwise, 



70 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

by articles, I must this morning have resigned. And this 
I had informed you of to-day, but you were gone before I 
knew you had been here. 

Angel. How ! I thought your love of me had caused 
this transport in your soul, which, it seems, you only coun- 
terfeited for mercenary ends and sordid interest ! 

Vol. Nay, now you do me wrong, for, if any interest 
was considered, it was yours, since I thought I wanted more 
than love, to make me worthy of you. 

Angel. Then you thought me mercenary. But how 
am I deluded, by this interval of sense, to reason with a 
madman ? 

VaL, Oh, 'tis barbarous to misunderstand me longer! 

Miter Jeremy, l. 2 e. 

Angel. Oh, here's a reasonable creature, sure he will 
not have the impudence to persevere ! Come, Jeremy, ac- 
knowledge your trick, and confess your master's madness 
counterfeit. 

Jer. Counterfeit, madam ! I'll maintain him to be as 
absolutely and substantially mad, as any freeholder in Bed- 
lam ! Nay he's as mad as any projector, fanatic, chemist, 
lover, or poet, in Europe ! 

Vol. Sirrah, you lie, I am not mad! 

Angel. Ha, ha, ha ! You see he denies it. 

[Sits on sofa, c. 

Jer. O Lord, madam, did you ever know any madman 
mad enough to own it ? 

Vol. Sot ! Can't you apprehend ? 

Angel. Why, he talked very sensibly just now ! 

Jer. Yes, madam, he has intervals, "but you see he be- 
gins to look wild again now. 

Vol. Why, you thick-skulled rascal, I tell you the 
farce is done, and I'll be mad no longer ! [Beats him. 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 71 

Angel. Ha, ha, ha ! Is he mad, or no, Jeremy ? 

Jer. Partly, I think, for he does not know his own 
mind two hours! I'm sure I left him .just now in the 
humor to be mad, and I think I have not found him very 
quiet at the present. [A knock, l. 2 e.] Who's there ? 

Val. Go see, you sot ! [Exit Jeremy, l. 2 e.] I'm 
very glad that Tcan move your mirth, though not your 
compassion ! [ Crosses, l. 

Angel, [r. m. b.] I did not think you had apprehension 
enough^jto be exceptious. But now you have restored me 
to my former opinion and compassion. 

Re-enter Jeremy, l. 2 e. 

Jer. Sir, your father has sent to know if you are any 
better yet. Will you please to be mad, sir, or how ? 

Val. Stupidity! You know the penalty of all I'm 
worth must pay for the confession of my senses. I'm mad, 
and will be mad, to every body but this lady ! 

Jer. Madam, your ladyship's woman. 

Enter Jenny, l. 2 e. 

Angel. [ Crosses to Jenny.] Well, have you been there ? 
Come hither. 

Jenny. Yes, madam, Sir Sampson will wait upon you 
presently. [Aside to Angelica and goes up to door. 

Val. You are not leaving me in this uncertainty ? 

Angel. Would any thing but a madman complain of 
uncertainty? uncertainty and expectation are the joys of life ! 
Security is an insipid thing, and the overtaking and possess- 
ing of a wish, discovers the folly of the chase. Never let us 
know one another better, for the pleasure of a masquerade is 
done, when we come to show our faces. But I'll tell you 
two things before I'll leave you, — I am not the fool you take 
me for, and you are mad, and don't know it. 

[Exeunt Ang. and Jenny, l. 2 s. 



72 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Vol. From a riddle you can expect nothing but a rid- 
dle. Yet I will pursue her, and know her if it be pos- 
sible, in spite of the opinion of my satirical friend, who says 

That women are like tricks by slight of hand, 
Which, to admire, we should not understand. 

[Knocks Jeremy over sofa and exits, l. 2 e. 



End of Act IV. 



-*** 



ACT V. 



A Room in Foresight's House. 

ENNY, 



M 



Angel. W 
he would be her 

Jenny. He's & 
madam, setting his 

Angel. How ! 
should like him, i 
than half my design? 

Jenny. I hear h? 

Angel. Leave me, 
come, or se: 



m 



lev Angelica, 



idid vou not 



and 



;ell me 



the dininl'-room, 



at\md wi 
*Lad 



has 
meAand tW 



'mind T 

;'s more 



tiiadas 



notf;^ 



.hear, if Valafftine should 
[Exit Jenny, l. 



Doken 



^AMPSON, R. 

Sir Samp. I have JbtXbeen honored with the com- 
mands of a fair lady a JreatVvhile. Odd, madam, you 
have revived me — not sirjce I wis five-and- thirty ! 

Angel. Why, you ihave nolgreat reason to complain, 
Sir Sampson ; that is not long agl 

Sir Samp. Zooks, but it js, madam, a very great 
while, to a man that admires a/ fine woman as much as 
I do. 

Angel. You're an absolu^ courtier, Sir Sampson. 



74 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Sir Samp. Not a? all, madam. Odsbud, you wrong 
me ! Let me tell y€u, you women think a man old too 
soon, faith and troth you do ! Come, don't despise fifty ; 
odd, fifty, in a hale^c^ffstitution, is no such contemptible 
age! \3 / 

Angel. Fifty a! contemptible age ! Not at all : a 
very fashionable age; I think. I assure you, I know very 
considerable beaux, tjfrat set a good face upon fifty ! Fifty ! 
I have seen fifty in S side-box by candlelight, out blossom 
five-and-twenty ! > # * 

Sir Samp. Outsides, outsits, mere outsides ! Hang 
your side-box beaux ! rfo, I'm none of tho§e, — none of your 
forced = trees, that pretend to blossom in the fall, and bud 
when they should bring forth-'fruit. I am of a long-lived 
race, arid inherit* viger. None of my ancestors married 
till fifty. I am of ^y our patriarchs, /, a branch of one 
of your ^antediluvian families, fellows *bhat the flood could 
not wash away! TV^ll,*madarn,- what are your com- 
mands ? Vilas any young rogue affronted you, and shall I 
cut his throat ? or — $ 

Angel. *!No, Sir Sampson, I £ave no quar rel upon my 
hands. I have'-more occasion for your c^lrauct than your 
courage at this tirneT To tell you the^ruth, I'm weary of 
living single. Jf ' 

Sir Samp. Odsbud, arril iKs pity you should ! 
Odd, would she would like 16 e I then I should hamper my 
young rogue : odd, would she wiould, faith and troth, she's 
devilish handsome! [^.4|^e.] TMadam, you deserve a 
good husband ! and 'twere pity\ you should be thrown 
away upon any of these young idle rogues about the town. 
Odd, there's ne'er a young fellow worth hanging — that 
is a very young fellow-^they never think beforehand of 
any thing, — and if they commit matrimony, 'tis as they 
commit murder, out of a njolic, and are ready to hang 




LOVE FOR LOVE. *J5 

themselves, or to be hanged by the law the next morning. 
Odso, have a care, madam ! 

Angel. Therefore, I ask your advice, Sir Sampson, — I 
have fortune enough to make any man easy that I can 
like, — if there were such a thing as a young, agreeable 
man, with a reasonable stock of good nature and sense — 
for I would neither have an absolute wit, nor a fool. 

Sir Samp. Odd, you are hard to please, madam : to 
find a young fellow that is neither a wit in his own eye, 
nor a fool in the eye of the world, is a very hard task. 
But, faith and troth, you speak very discreetly ! I hate a 
wit, — I had a son that was spoilt among them, — a good 
hopeful lad, till he learnt to be a wit — and might have 
risen in the state. But his wit ran him out of his money, 
and now his poverty has run him out of his wits ! 

Angel. Sir Sampson, as your friend, I must tell you, 
you are veiy much abused in that matter — he's no more 
mad than you are. 

Sir Samp. How, madam! Would I could prove 
it! 

Angel. I can tell you how that may be done— but it 
is a thing that would make me appear to be too much con- 
cerned in your affairs. 

Sir Samp. Odsbud, I believe she likes me ! [-4stc?c] 
Ah, madam, all my affajrs are scarce worthy to be laid at 
your feet ! If I had Peru in one hand, and Mexico in 
t'other, and the Eastern empire under my feet, it would 
make me only a more glorious victim, to be offer'd at the 
shrine of your beauty ! 

Angel. Bless me, Sir Sampson, what's the matter ? 

Sir Samp. Odd, madam, I love you — and if you 
would take my advice in a husband — 

Angel. Hold, hold, Sir Sampson, I asked your advice 
for a husband, and you are giving me your consent ! I 



76 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

was indeed thinking to propose something like it in jest, 
to satisfy you about Valentine ; for if a match were seem- 
ingly carried on between you and me, it would oblige him 
to throw off his disguise of madness, in apprehension of 
losing me, for, you know he has long pretended a passion 
for me. 

Sir Samp.. Gadzooks, a most ingenious contrivance — 
if we were to go through with it ! But why must the match 
only be seemingly carried on ? Odd, let it be a real con- 
tract ! 

Angel. fie, Sir Sampson, what would the world 
say ? 

Sir Samp. Say ? They would say you were a wise 
woman, and I a happy man ! Odd, madam, I'll love you 
as long as I live, and leave you a good jointure when I 
die! 

Angel. Ay, but that is not in your power, Sir Samp- 
son, for when Valentine confesses himself in his senses, he 
must make over his inheritance to his younger brother. 

Sir Samp. Odd, you're cunning, a wary baggage ! 
Faith and troth, I like you the better ! But, I warrant 
you, I have a proviso in the obligation in favor of myself. 
Body o' me, I have a trick to turn the settlement upon the 
male issue ! Odsbud, I'll find an estate ! 

Angel. "Will you? 

Sir Samp. O rogue ! and will you consent ? It ii a 
match then \ 

Angel. Let me consult my lawyer concerning this ob- 
ligation, and if I find what you propose practicable, I'll give 
you my answer. 

Sir Samp. With all my heart ! Come in with me, 
and I'll lend you the bond. [Crosses, l.] You shall con- 
sult your lawyer, and I'll consult a parson. Odzooks, I'm 
a young man, I'm a young man ! Odd, you're devilish 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 77 

handsome ! Faith and troth, you're very handsome, and 
I'm very young ! Odsbud, hussy, you know how to choose, 
and so do I ! Odd, I think we are very well met. Give 
me your hand, odd, let me kiss it, 'tis as warm and as soft 
as what ? Odd, as t'other hand ! 

Angel. Hold, Sir Sampson ! You're profuse. 

Sir Samp. Ah ! baggage. Odd, Sampson is a very 
good name ! Your Sampsons were strong dogs from the 
beginning ! 

Angel. But, if you remember, Sampson, the strongest 
of the name pulled an old house over his head at last. 

Sir Samp. Say you so, hussy ? I'll risk the tumbling 
of the temple. [Exeunt, l. h. kissing her hand. 

Enter Tattle and Jeremy, c. 

Tattle, [l.] Is not that she gone out just now? 

Jer. [r.] Ay, sir, she's just going to the place of ap- 
pointment. Ah, sir, if you are not very faithful and 
close in this business, you'll certainly be the death of a 
person that has a most extraordinary passion for your 
honor's service. 

Tattle. Ay, who's that ? 

Jer. Even my unworthy self, sir. Sir, I have 
had an appetite to be fed with your commands a great 
while — and now, sir, my former master having much 
troubled the fountain of his understanding, it is a very 
plausible occasion for me to quench my thirst at the spring 
of your bounty ! I thought I could not recommend my- 
self better to you, sir, than by the delivery of a great beauty 
and fortune into your arms, whom I have heard you sigh 
for! 

Tattle. I'll make thy fortune, say no more ! Thou 
H-ifrt a pretty fellow, and canst carry a message to a lady 
in a pretty soft kind of phrase, and with a good persuad- 
ing accent. 



18 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Jer. Sir, I have the seeds of rhetoric and oratory in 
my head — I have been at Cambridge. 

Tattle. Ay, 'tis well enough for a servant to be bred 
at an University, but the education is a little too pedantic for 
a gentleman. I hope you are secretin your nature, private, 
close, ha ? 

Jer. sir, for that, sir, 'tis my chief talent ; I'm as 
secret as the head of Nilus ! 

Tattle. Ay ? Who's he, though ? A privy-counsel- 
lor ? 

Jer. O ignorance ! (aside.) A cunning Egyptian, sir, 
that with his arms could overrun the country, yet nobody 
could ever find out his head-quarters. 

Tattle. Close dog ! — The time draws nigh, Jeremy ! 
Angelica will be veiled like a nun, and I must be hooded 
like a friar, ha, Jeremy ? 

Jer. Ay, sir, hooded like a hawk, to seize at first sight 
upon the quarry ? It is the whim of my master's madness 
to be so dressed, and she is so in love with him, she'll com- 
ply with any thing to please him. Poor lady ! I'm sure 
she'll have reason to pray for me, when she finds what a 
happy change she has made, between a madman and so 
accomplished a gentleman. 

Tattle. Ay, faith, so she will, Jeremy; you're a good 
friend to her, poor creature ! — I swear I do it hardly so 
much in consideration of myself as compassion to her ! 

Jer. 'Tis an act of charity, sir, to save a fine woman, 
with thirty thousand pounds from throwing herself away. 

Tattle. So 'tis, faith ! — I might have saved several 
others in my time, but, egad, I could never find in my 
heart to marry any body before. [Crosses, r. h. 

Jer. Well, sir, I'll go and tell her my master's coming, 
and meet you in half-a-quarter of an hour, with your dis- 
guise, at your lodgings. You must talk a little madly— 
she won't distinguish the tone of your voice ? 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 79 

Tattle. No, no, let rae alone of a counterfeit — I'll be 
ready for you ! [Exit Jeremy, l. h. 

Enter Miss Prue, r. h. 

Miss P. O, Mr. Tattle, are you here ? I'm glad I 
have found you. I have been looking up and down for 
you like any thing, till I'm as tired as any thing in the 
world. 

Tattle. How shall I get rid of this foolish girl ? 

[Aside. 

Miss P. 0, I have pure news, I can tell you pure 
news — I must not marry the seaman now — my father says 
so ! Why won't you be my husband ? You say you love 
me ! and you won't be my husband. And I know you 
may be my husband now if you please. 

Tattle. O fie, miss ! Who told you so, child ? 

Miss P. Why, my father — I told him that you loved 
me. 

Tattle. iie, miss ! Why did you do so ? And who 
told you so, child ? 

Miss P. Who ? Why you did, did not you ? 

Tattle. That was yesterday, miss, that was a great 
while ago, child ! I have been asleep since, slept a whole 
night, and did not so much as dream of the matter. 

Miss P. O but I dreamt that it was so though ! 

Tattle. Ay, but your father will tell you that dreams 
come to contraries, child ! We must not love one another 
now. — Pshaw ! that would be a foolish thing indeed ! 

Miss P. Well, but don't you love me as well as you 
did then ? 

Tattle. No, no, child, you would not have me. 

Miss P. No? Yes but I would though! 

Tattle. But I tell you, you would not ! You forget 
you are a woman and don't know your own mind ! 



80 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Miss P. But here's my father, and he knows my 
mind ! 

Enter Foresight, r. h. 

Fore. Oh, Mr. Tattle, — [ Crosses'] — your servant : — you 
are a close man, but methinks your love to my daughter 
was a secret I might have been trusted with ! — Or had you 
a mind to try if I could discover it by my art ? — Hum, 
ha ! I think there is something in your physiognomy that 
has a resemblance of her, and the girl is like me. 

Tattle. And so you would infer, that you and I are 
alike. What does the old prig mean ? — I'll banter him, and 
laugh at him, and leave him ! [J^'cfo.] — I fancy you have 
a wrong notion of faces. I have no more love for your 
daughter, than I have likeness of you : and I have a secret 
m my heart, which you would be glad to know, and shan't 
know, and yet you shall know it too, and be sorry for it after- 
wards. I'd have you to know, sir, that I am as knowing as 
the stars, and as secret as the night ! And I'm going to be 
married just now, yet did not know of it half an hour ago, 
and the lady stays for me, and does not know of it yet. 
— There's a mystery for you ! I kqpw you love to untie 
difficulties. — Or if you can't solve this, stay here a quarter 
of an hour, and I'll" come and explain it to you ! 

[Exit, L. H. 
Miss P. O father, why will you let him go ? Won't 
you make him to be my husband ? 

Fore. Mercy on us, what do these lunacies portend ? 
Alas ! he's mad, child, stark wild ! 

Miss P. What, and must not I have e'er a husband 
then ? What, must I go to my nurse again, and be a child 
as long as she's an old woman ? Indeed but I won't ! 

Fore. O fearful, I think the girl's influenced too ! Hus- 
sy, you shall have a rod ! 

Miss P. A fiddle of a rod ! I'll have a husband, and 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 81 

if you won't get me one, I'll get one for myself! I'll marry 
our Robin, the butler ! I warrant he'll be my husband, and 
thank me too, for he told me so ! 

Enter Scandal, Mrs. Foresight, and Nurse, r. 2 e. 

Fore, Did he so ? I'll dispatch him for it presently ! 
Rogue ! Oh, nurse, come hither ! 

Nurse. What is your worship's pleasure ? 

Fore. Here, take your young mistress, and lock her 
up presently, till further orders from me. Not a word, 
hussy — do what I bid you ! No reply ; away ! And bid 
Robin make ready to give an account of his plate and linen, 
d'ye hear ? Begone when I bid you ! 

Miss P. I don't care! Oh! Oh! [Cries.] 

[Exeunt Nurse and Miss Prue, r. h. 

Mrs. Fore. [r. c] What's the matter, husband? 

Fore, [l.] 'Tis not convenient to tell you now — Mr. 
Scandal, Heaven keep us all in our senses ! I fear there is 
a contagious frenzy abroad ! How does Valentine ? 

Scandal, [r.] O, I hope he will do well again. I have 
a message from him to your niece Angelica. 

Fore. I think she has not returned since she went 
abroad with Sir Sampson. [Enter Ben, l. h.] Here's Mr. 
Benjamin, he can tall us if his father be come home. 

Ben. [l.] Who ? father ? Ay, he's come home with a 
vengeance ! 

Mrs. Fore. Why, what's the matter ? 

Ben. Matter ! Why he's mad ! 

Fore, [a] Mercy on us ! I was afraid of this. 

Ben. And there's a handsome young woman, she, as 
they say, brother Val went mad for, she's mad, too, I think ! 
Fore. O, my poor niece ! My poor niece ! Is she gone 
too ? Well, I shall run mad next ! 

Mrs. Fore. Well, but how mad ? how d'ye mean ? 
5 



82 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Ben. Nay, I'll give you leave to guess — I'll undertake 
to make a voyage to Antigua — no, I mayn't say so neither 
— but I'll sail as far as Leghorn, and back again, before 
you shall guess at the matter, and do nothing else. Mess, 
you may take in all the points of the compass, and not hit 
right. 

Mrs. Fore. Your experiment will take up a little too 
much time. 

Ben. Why, then I'll tell you : there's a new wedding 
upon the stocks, and they two are going to be married to 
rights. 

Scand. Who ? 

Ben. Why, father, and — the young woman ! I can't 
hit of her name. 

Scand. Angelica ! 

Ben. Ay, the same ! 

Mrs. Fore. Sir Sampson and Angelica ? Impossible ! 

Ben. That may be — but I'm sure it is as I tell you. 

Scand. 'Sdeath, it's a jest ! I can't believe it ! 

[Gets round to l. 

Ben. Look you, friend, it is nothing to me, whether 
you believe it or no ! What I say is true, d'ye see, they 
are married, or just going to be married, I know not which ! 

Fore. Well, but they are not mad, that is not lunatic ? 

Ben. I don't know what you may call madness, — but 
she's mad for a husband, and he's horn-mad, I think, or 
they'd never make a match together ! Here they come ! 

Enter Sir Sampson, Angelica, and Buckram, l. Buck- 
ram goes to table, r. 

Sir Samp. Where is this old soothsayer '? this uncle 
of mine elect ? Aha ! Old Foresight ! Uncle Foresight ! 
Wish me joy, Uncle Foresight, double joy, both as 
uncle and astrologer ; here's a conjunction that was not fore- 
told in all your ephemeres ! — the brightest star in the blue 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 83 

firmament is shot from above, and so forth, and I'm lord 
of the ascendant! Odd, you're an old fellow, Foresight, 
Uncle I mean, a very old fellow, Uncle Foresight, and yet 
you shall live to dance at my wedding, faith and troth you 
shall ! Odd, we'll have the music of the spheres for thee, 
old Lilly, that we will, and thou shalt lead up a dance in 
via lactea ! 

Fore. I'm thunderstruck ! You are not married to my 
niece ? 

Sir Samp. Not absolutely married, Uncle, but very 
near it, within a kiss of the matter, as you see ! 

[Kisses Angelica. 

Angel. 'Tis very true, indeed, Uncle ; I hope you'll be 
my father and give me. 

Sir Samp. That he shall, or I'll burn his globes ! 
Body o' me, he shall be thy father, I'll make him thy father ! 

Scand. Death ! Where's Valentine ? \ExiU l. h. 

Mrs. Fore. This is so surprising — 

Sir Samp. How ! What does my Aunt say ? Sur- 
prising, Aunt ? Not at all, for a young couple to make 
match ! 

Ben. The young woman's a handsome young woman, 
I can't deny it : but father, if I might be your pilot in this 
case, you should not marry her ! 

Sir Samp. Who gave you authority to speak, sirrah? 
To your element, fish, be mute, fish, and to sea ! Rule 
your helm, sirrah, don't direct me ! 

Ben. Well, well, take you care of your own helm, or 
you mayn't keep your new vessel steady ! 

Sir Samp. Why, you impudent tarpaulin ! Sirrah, 
do you bring your forecastle jests upon your father ? but I 
shall be even with you, I won't give you a groat ! Mr. 
Buckram, is the conveyance so worded, that nothing can 
possibly descend to this scoundrel ? I would not so much 



84 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

as have him have the prospect of an estate, though there 
were no way to come to it, but by the North-east passage ! 

Buck. Sir, it is drawn according to your directions ; 
there is not the least cranny of the law unstopt. 

Ben. Lawyer, I believe there's many a cranny and 
leak unstopt in your conscience ! They say a witch will 
sail in a sieve — but I believe the devil would not venture 
aboard your conscience ! and that's for you! 

[Sits on sofa, l. h. 

Sir Samp. Hold your tongue, sirrah ! — How now ? 
Who's here ? 

Miter Tattle [as monk'], and Mrs. Frail [as nun~\, l. h. 
they walk up and down the stage in front, k. <k l. 

Mrs. Frail. O sister, the most unlucky accident ! 

Mrs. Fore. What's the matter ? 

Tattle. O the two most unfortunate poor creatures in 
the world we are ! 

Fore. Bless us ! how so ? 

Mrs. Frail. Ah, Mr. Tattle and I, poor Mr. Tattle and 
I are — I can't speak it out ! 

Tattle, [l.] Nor I But poor Mrs. Frail and I are — 

Mrs. Frail, [l. c] Married! 

Fore, [a] Married ! How ? 

Tattle. Suddenly — before we knew where we were — 
that villain Jeremy, by the help of disguises, tricked us into it ! 

Fore. Why you told me just now, you went hence in 
haste to be married ! 

Angel, (r. c.) But, I believe Mr. Tattle meant the 
favor to me ; I thank him. 

Tattle. I did, as I hope to be saved, madam ; my in- 
tentions were good ! — But this is the most cruel thing, to 
marry one does not know how, nor why, nor wherefore! — 
The devil take me, if ever I was so much concerned at any 
thing in my life ! 



LOVE FOR LOVE. 85 

Angel. "lis very unhappy, if you don't care for one 
another. 

Tattle. The least in the world, — that is, for my part, 
I speak for myself! Gad, I never had the least thought of 
serious kindness, — I never liked any body less in my life ! 
Poor woman ! Gad, I'm sorry for her too, for I have no 
reason to hate her neither, but I believe I shall lead her a 
damned sort of a life ! 

Mrs. Frail. Nay, for my part, I always despised Mr. 
Tattle of all things ; nothing but his being my husband 
could have made me like him less. 

Tattle. I thought as much I I wish we could keep it 
secret, — why I don't believe any of this company would 
speak of it. 

Ben. ( On sofa, l.) If you suspect me, friend, I'll go out 
of the room. 

Mrs. Frail. But, my dear, that's impossible, the parson 
and that rogue Jeremy will publish it ! 

Tattle. Ay, my dear, so they will, as you say! 

Angel. O you'll agree very well in a little time ! 

Ben. (Conies down, c.) Why, there's another match 
now, as tho'f a couple of privateers were looking for a 
prize, and should fall foul of one another. I'm sorry for 
the young man, with all my heart. Look you, friend, — if 
I may advise, — I have experience of her, — when she's going 
let her go ! Who's here ? the madman ! 

Enter Valentine, Scandal, and Jeremy, l. h. Tattle, 
Mrs. Frail and Ben go up stage, l. 

Val. No, here's the fool, and, if occasion be, I'll give 
it under my hand ! 

Sir Samji How now ? 

Val. Sir, I'm come to acknowledge my errors, and 
ask your pardon. 



86 LOVE FOR LOVE. 

Sir Samp. What, have you found your senses at last 
then? 

Val. You were abused, sir, I never was distracted. 

Fore. How ? Not mad, Mr. Scandal ? 

Scand. No, really, sir, — I'm his witness, it was all 
counterfeit. 

Val. I thought I had reasons, — but it was a poor con- 
trivance, the effect has shown it such. 

Sir Samp. Contrivance ! What to cheat me ? to 
cheat your father? Sirrah, could you hope to prosper.? 

Vol. Indeed, I thought, sir, when the father endeavor- 
ed to undo the son, it was a reasonable return" of nature. 

Sir Samp, [a] Very good, sir ! Mr. Buckram, are 
you ready ? Come, sir, will you sign and seal ?. 

Vol. [l. c] If you please, sir, — but first I would ask 
this lady one question. 

Sir Samp. Sir, you must ask me leave first. That 
lady ? No, sir, you shall ask that lady no questions, till 
you have asked her blessing, sir, — that lady is to be my wife ! 

Vol. I have heard as much, sir, but I would have it 
from her own mouth. 

Sir Samp. That's as much as to say, I lie, sir ! 

Vol. Pardon me, sir ! But I reflect that I very lately 
counterfeited madness : I don't know but the frolic may go 
round. 

Sir Samp. Come, chuck, satisfy him, answer him. 
Come, Mr. Buckram, the pen and ink ! 

Buck. Here it is, sir, with the deed, all is ready ! 

Angel, [r. c] 'Tis true, you have a great while pre- 
tended love to me ; nay, what if you were sincere. Still 
you must pardon me, if I think my own inclinations have a 
better right to dispose of my person than yours. 

Sir Samp. Are you answered now, sir ? 

VaL Yes, sir. 

Sir Samp. Where's your plot, sir ? And your con- 



Sir 

Val 
Angel. 
could not make 
! 




trivance now, sir ? 

sign and seal ? 

Val. With all my 
Scand. [l. h.] 'Sdeat 

ruin yourself? 

Val. I never valued 

to my pleasure, and .my 

lady : I have made 

that nothing but my 

son, I will sign to, 

Angel. 

Buck. HerS" 

Val. But wher 
to sign this ? 

Buck. Sir S; 

Angel. No, 1 
as I would every 



87 



Come, will you 



indeed, to 

subservient 

please this 

nd, at last, 

it, which, f< r that rea- 

table, r. h. 

Generousf Valentine ! 

[Aside. 

am obliged 



and I'll use it, 
Valentine ! 
'ears the paper. 



y Had I the world to give you, it 
^ ^rthy of so generous and faithful a 
passion ! Here'^Kny kahd, my heart was always yours, 
and struggled very ham tfe make this utmost trial of your 
virtue ! 



Val. [c. ] Between p 

lost, — but on my knjres I ta" 

Sir Samp. Q#ns, what 



Ben. [Comes down, 
changed again ! Father, 
together uow ! 

Angel. Well, 





asure and amazement I am 
the blessing ! [Kneels. 

the meaning of this ? 

[ Val. rises. 

c] Mess, here's the wind 

bu and I may make a voyage 

pson, since T have played you a 



88 LOVE Ff)R LOVE. 

trick, I'll advise you how yotSPmay avoid such another. 

[Crosses to Sir Sampson.] ^pLearn to be a good father, or 

you'll never get a second wife. 'I always loved your son, 

and hated your unforgiving nature. I was resolved to try 

him to the utmost ;^ have med you, too, and know you 

both. You have not*more ifaults than he has virtues, and 

V 
it is hardly more pleasure to, me, that I can make him and 

myself happy, than that, I can punish you ! 

Sir Samp. Oons, you'r^a croc.dSile! [C?*osses, r. 

Fore. This is a sudden eclipse, my friend and brother ! 

Sir Samp; You're a d — d old fop], and I'm another ! 
• [Exit, R. followedpy Buckram. 

Tattle. I [Down, l. c7] 'If the gentleman is in disorder 
for want of a wife, I can spare him mine ! * Oh, are you 
there, sir ? £ To Jeremy, Lff [J 4fm indebted to you for my 
happiness! \ J yf . 

Jer. Sir, \ ask you ten thousand pardons, — it was an 
arrant mistake !% You see, sir, my master was never mad, 
nor any thing like it. ' r [Exit, l. h. 1 e, 

Vol. Tattle, Miank you^youLwould have interposed 
between me and Heaven, butiProvidence laid purgatory in 
your way. You have but*justice ! , / 

Scand. [To Angel.~\ Well, madam, 1 — I was an in- 
fidel to your sex, and you hfave cortverte'd me, — for now I 
am convinced that all women are not, lil^ffortune, blind in 
bestowing favors. ~ 

Angelica. You would all ^havel the reward of love, 
but have not- the constancy to stay till it becomes your due. 
How few, like Valentine, would persevere even to martyr- 
dom, and sacrifice their interest to their\constancy. In ad- 
miring me, you misplace the novelty. 

The miracle to-day^is?, that we find, 
A lover true, not that a woman's kind. 



Curtain. 



\ 



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"It is praise enough to say of a writer, that, in a "high department of literature, in 
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